


It's About Time

by bloodandcream



Series: The more the merrier [17]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcoholic Enema, Alternate Universe, Angst, Belting, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bruises, Cock Rings, Come Eating, Come play, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dirty Talk, Edging, Enemas, Exhibitionism, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Marking, Masturbation, Mild Somnophilia, Multi, One Night Stands, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Multiple, Panties, Rimming, Rope Bondage, S&M, Sex Toys, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, d/s dynamics, the plot is flimsy to non existent it's mostly just porn, this fic takes place in the course of 24 hrs, warning for very brief mention of past underage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-15 18:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 34,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/pseuds/bloodandcream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester, 24, conman. He’s been a drifter for most all of his life, traveling where his father took him, where the job took him. He’s good at what he does. There are three things his father taught him in life, how to run a con, how to run from the law, how to run away from your problems. Sam Winchester, 20, college student. He didn’t know when he was a kid the sort of things their father used them for. Strangers got soft, and stupid, around a cute little kid. Dad was good at running those kinds of cons. When Sam got old enough to understand, he didn’t want anything to do with it so he ran as fast as he could. Castiel Novak, 34, museum curator. He’s known for most of his adult life that he’s gay, but he’s known for longer than that that coming out of the closet will get him kicked out of his family. So he leads a quiet, lonely life. He runs away every now and then - for his job. It’s enough to sustain him, he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking for a good time sweetheart?

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to msdoomandgloom for keeping me sane and on track throughout this whole thing (seriouslyomfg). And thanks to all the mods of the Supernatural Kink BB for putting all this together. <3

-

—S—

Sam had showered - thoroughly - shaved, and dressed in what smelled like his cleanest clothes, soft worn jeans, white t-shirt, green flannel plaid. He had combed his hair, then mussed it up, vaguely considered some of the gel product that his room mate used before dismissing that, and combed his hair again. He had a small back pack with a change of clothes and a stash of condoms and lube. Though he usually left it to Dean to bring whatever props they’d use, you could never have too much condoms or lube. 

When he heard the Impala’s horn out front, he bounded down the steps of the duplex he shared with three other guys. Sam had already told Brady that he’d be out for the weekend, and none of the others would probably even notice. It was just past noon, the sun high in a clear sky almost blinding him. The Impala sat shining and sleek on the pot hole riddled street. Dean was still behind the wheel watching Sam come down the walk through an open window, but he leaned forward to turn down the cock rock that was screeching out into the open air. 

Sam opened the door and tossed his back pack across the bench seat into the back, folding himself up to fit into the car and pulling his seat belt on. Dean was smiling at him all white teeth and appraising eyes across the seat. 

"Goddam, if you keep getting taller every time I see you, then you’re just not gonna fit in this car anymore." 

It had been almost a year since Sam had seen his brother, and even though he wasn’t a teenager anymore - newly twenty - he was still managing to grow up and up. Though he wished he’d start growing out. His limbs kept stretching but he wasn’t putting on much weight, muscles lean and wiry on his slim frame. 

"I’ll always fit in this car," Sam said petulantly as he had to stretch his legs out to the side so his knees wouldn’t bump the dashboard.

Dean laughed and pulled off down the street with a loud rumble of the engine and it felt good to have the worn leather seats under him again, the vibrations of the old car, Dean’s laugh and his music a familiar, comfortable thing. 

"So where’re we going this time?" Sam asked as he dangled an arm out the window.

"Taking you a few hours south, I scouted out a place already."

"Cool."

They always went at least two hours away from where Sam lived. It seemed like a safe enough distance he wouldn’t run into anyone that knew him, class mates or teachers, because he didn’t need that kind of awkward in his life. 

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, there always were, but Dean generally avoided answering questions about how he was, about where dad was, about if he was eating well and staying out of too many bar fights, if he was staying on the right side of the law. Sam learned a few years ago that it was easier not to ask, that they could just enjoy each other’s company and pretend everything was good in their lives if they left certain things unsaid. So he did something else to distract the both of them.

—D—

Dean couldn’t help the smile on his face when his little brother had to fold up his long gangly limbs to fit into the car. It had been a whole year since he’d seen Sammy, and he would have come sooner - he always told himself that - but it had been a bit of a rough year. At least the increasing rift between him and his dad, the small string of charges and near misses for theft and assault, and his little brother waiting for him to show up again, it made Dean mellow a little lately. Settle down a little, maybe for a few months, it wasn’t really permanent, it was just him waiting for things to blow over. That’s what he told himself.

Once he’d had a little money saved up to send Sam for school and they talked a little more, he decided it was time for another trip out to see his brother. Sometimes guilt kept him away, sometimes that gnawing sense of sickness in his belly that told him to run, sometimes it was just too much seeing Sam again. He’d always end up right back next to Sam though, couldn’t really stay away for good. 

It was always kind of a shock how much Sam changed between their visits. Dean had made it out to see him maybe four or five times since he’d started college. He kind of wondered if he changed at all between their visits, if it ever surprised Sam, but Dean knew that as much as he was constantly moving, he was never really changing. But that was all right. He liked getting to know Sam again. It seemed his brother was even more confident - cocky - than ever when he pushed his jeans down his skinny hips and started stroking himself hard right next to Dean in the car as they made their way down a freeway.

"Fuck Sammy, you gonna save anything for tonight?"

"Figured you probably got a lot in store for me, thought I should probably take care of myself now so I’ll last longer for you tonight."

He was smiling, and it was that cute dimpled need for approval smile that Dean had always seen on him, but there was something teasing and sly slipping around the edges of his lips too. 

"Oh you are gonna pay for that later."

Dean tried to keep his eyes on the road, flicking between asphalt, Sam’s smile and his hand on his cock. At least the freeway was a long straight stretch of road that didn’t require too much of his attention. Shifting in his seat, Dean rearranged himself in his jeans, wondering if he should just let himself out too but he decided that would give Sam too much satisfaction, the smug little shit. 

He was really putting himself into it too, hips rocking up to meet his hand, little grunts and huffs of breath audible over the music, head back against the seat so his throat was a long exposed stretch down. Yeah, he’d picked up a few new tricks in the last year. 

—S—

Sam was thinking about Dean while he jerked himself off in the passenger seat. Even though it had been three years since they were last living together, he still usually thought about Dean when he masturbated, and a lot of the times when he had sex with other people too. The few times Dean had stopped by to pick him up and hang out for a weekend, that didn’t help. It just ended up giving Sam more things to think about, his brother constantly escalating the stakes in their game like he thought he could scare Sam away. Sam was too stubborn for that, but he surprised himself cause it wasn’t just his recalcitrant nature, he actually liked it, liked what Dean would make guys do to him.

He tried pacing himself, stroking himself slow, cupping his balls with one hand while he rubbed his thumb over the slit and wet the head with pre-come, slow easy slide. But Dean’s green eyes kept flicking over and lingering for longer than was safe, licking his lips hungrily, and fuck but Sam would do anything for a kiss, just to suck on those plump lips that featured way too prominently in his fantasies.

He couldn’t keep his hand from going faster, squeezing tight, glide of smooth skin over the hardness, legs tensing up and his breath coming shorter. Sam could see the long hard bulge in Dean’s jeans and the way his brother shifted, little jerks of his hips, hands white knuckled on the steering wheel. 

Lifting his shirt up higher and holding it around his chest, Sam came on his bare smooth belly, from the sparse trail of hair below his navel to the hard line of his ribs where his chest heaved out. Head lolling against the seat, eyes still focused on Dean, Sam panted and held his cock while it softened, sliding his hand wet and loose along it. Dean was breathing heavy, mouth a tight line, watching him too long before his attention snapped back to the road at the judder of the Impala running off onto the gravel shoulder. 

Sam pulled a small pack of tissues out of his pocket - he already knew this was going to happen - and wiped himself off, bundling dirty tissues into a clean tissue and wrapping it again before stuffing it back in his pocket. Putting on a little show was a good kind of riling up, but it would be riling Dean up in the wrong way to carelessly litter the Impala with jizz tissues. 

—D—

At least traffic was light to nonexistent, Dean thought as he pulled baby back onto the road with a swerve, hands slipping a little on the wheel with sweat. 

"Fuck, you tryin’ to get us killed Sammy?"

"I guess I just thought you had a little more self control than that Dean."

Dean reached over and punched Sam on the arm - hard - his little brother still balling up tissues of jizz. Dean got a bitch face and a half assed swat back for his troubles. Sam’s belly was pulling tight with his breath, ridges of muscle starting to show, filling out a little more and his hip bones weren’t so sharp up against his skin. 

"Looks like you’re finally starting to bulk up there a bit."

Sam managed to look proud and sulking at the time. “Well, I’m trying to. I started doing more calisthenics, and I’m taking a self defense class for my phys ed requirement.”

"Psh, I bet you could kick the teacher’s ass from day one."

"It’s more mixed martial, not street brawling."

Sam was rolling his eyes, and rolling his shirt back down over his stomach, dick tucked back in and his long fingers were buckling his belt again. Eyes, road. Stay on the road Dean. 

He was trying not to think how skinny Sam was as a teenager, no matter how much food Dean could scrounge up for him the kid just never put on weight, only grew longer and more stretched out. Settling down was good for Sam.

"You eatin’ plenty?"

"Yeah, I got a job last summer at a grocery store, managed to save up some, and I’m on a meal plan with my scholarship you know." 

"Oh yeah. Ever figure out what you wanna do? You’re junior year right."

"Yeah, I started taking a lot of bio-chem major classes, I think, I wanna try for vet school after I graduate."

"More school?"

"Yeah."

"You were always good with animals."

Sam smiled then, beamed, dimples and all, and Dean had put that there. He reached one arm along the back of the seat and ruffled Sam’s shaggy hair, keeping his arm slung over that way, palm over the cotton of Sam’s t-shirt, fingers just brushing against the nape of his neck. It was an easy drive. After the conversation lulled, Sam leaned forward and turned the volume up, settling back against the seat and pressing himself back against Dean’s hand. The silence between them was comfortable, respectful of road trip conventions - windows down and music up. Dean was still half hard in his jeans for most of the trip.

—S—

Even though he had a biology test Monday that Sam knew was going to kick his ass because he was not getting in the studying he should this weekend, he felt nothing but relaxed and content sitting next to his brother winding through green fields and forests, the sun bright in his eyes, warm on his skin, and Dean’s hand curling around the back of his neck. 

They rolled through a few small towns, and kept on going, until they reached a place called Fillmore and Dean pulled up to a motel just past the city name sign. The parking lot was gravel, half the letters in the motel sign weren’t lit up, the salmon pink paint was chipping off the block walls, and there were three women in mini skirts standing and smoking on the corner a few yards down the block. Sam would shake his head, cause his brother was too fond of gritty atmospheres and dirty places like maybe that’s where he felt most comfortable - maybe that’s still where he felt home - but Sam was kind of fond of it too. Only, he was because it was the same sort of routine that they’d carved out over the past few years and handful of visits, so now these places reminded Sam of that.

Dean already had a room, he’d probably stayed here a few days before coming up to get Sam, and his room was scattered with empty beer bottles and cloths slung over every piece of furniture. Sam tossed his back pack on the table, digging the tissues out of his pocket to throw away. Dean wanted a shower before they went out to get dinner.

Sam decided to tidy a little if they were going to be bringing someone back later tonight, it was only polite. He wadded Dean’s clothes up and tossed them in the general direction of an open duffle, then gathered empty bottles and found a few styrofoam containers of old take out to toss as well. The beds had that universal old grandma floral pattern in pink pastels for sheets, although the carpet was a dingy mustard yellow. There was a round wood table that was scratched up, with three plain wood chairs. The lamps on the small bedside tables had beige shades. 

Sam knew why Dean picked this place. There were mirrors on the ceiling above the bed. And the beds had wood headboards to match the table set, with vertical slats it would be convenient to tie someone to. His brother was so predictable. 

The water rattled the pipes in the wall, and Dean was humming off key. The door to the bathroom was left open a crack. Sam gravitated towards the door in his circling around the room cleaning. He ended up leaning against the door listening through the crack as Dean started grunting and making those little half choked gasps he made when he masturbated. 

Sam wasn’t going to get hard again so soon, but he still liked to listen. It was how all this started anyway. He was pretty young - eleven - when he first heard Dean having sex with a girl through the thin walls of the tiny apartment they’d been staying in a few months. He didn’t really know what it was, but sometimes he listened, curious, from town to town and apartment to motel to studio. 

By the time he was twelve he knew what was going on. But he didn’t stop. By the time he was thirteen, Dean caught him watching through a crack in the door, green eyes snagged on his wide hazel eyes through the crack, only Dean didn’t roll off the girl he was on, didn’t yell at Sam, just watched him the whole time. Then Dean started touching girls in front of Sam, started finding girls that liked to be watched, pretending like he was being a good brother showing Sam what to do. They both knew Sam was more interested in watching Dean than watching the girls.

When he was sixteen, Dean brought home a boy for the first time. Sam didn’t know if it was the first time Dean had fucked another boy, or just the first time he let Sam see. They never touched Sam, Dean wouldn’t let them and Dean wouldn’t either, but they did all sorts of things in front of him. Sam didn’t care if it was weird, no one had to know they were brothers when they were moving from town to town every few months or every year. All Sam wanted was his brother, but Dean wouldn’t give him that. So he started finding boys for himself, and flaunting them in front of his brother. 

He figured things might change when he turned eighteen, still in his senior year of high school but hey, eighteen was eighteen. They did change, just not how he expected. Dean still wouldn’t touch, wouldn’t even kiss him, but he stopped making Sam watch. Now, Dean found guys to fuck Sam and he was the one to watch. 

—D—

Dean figured fair was fair, making sure to be plenty loud enough in the shower for Sam to hear. He staid in until the water ran cold, rinsing the last of the soap off quick before turning the water off and drying with a sad, scratchy little towel. He’d taken his change of clothes in to the bathroom to dress privately, not because he didn’t want to fuck with Sam, but because he already had a surprise in store for his brother. 

When he came out of the bathroom in a billow of steam, Sam was stepping back a few feet away from the door frame, lips looking spit slick and swollen from biting them. Dean just winked and sauntered out fully dressed, almost making fun of Sam for picking up the room a little, but Dean bit it back and pocketed his keys, slipping his leather jacket over a faded black Zeppelin tee. 

"C’mon Sammy, there’s a diner down the road with the best bacon cheeseburgers you will ever eat."

They drove to the diner and settled down in a corner booth away from other patrons, both ordering coffee before Sam looked through the menu. Dean rolled his eyes when Sam ordered a salad. 

"Dude if you wanna bulk up more, you gotta eat protein, no wonder you’re still a twig with those leafy greens."

Sam huffed, “Dean, the salad comes with eggs and ham, that’s plenty of protein.” 

"Uh-huh."

He rolled his eyes and accepted his coffee from the waitress with his ‘keep these coming and I got a special tip for you baby’ smile, because he just couldn’t turn it off. 

"So, what uh…. what have you been up to, you still just drifting around?"

Dean drank his coffee black while Sam shook three packets of sugar into his.

"Actually, I kind of settled down, for a little while at least."

"Yeah? Find something worth settling down for?"

"Nah. Just needed to lay low." Dean leaned forward across the table, talking in a low voice and keeping his eyes out for the waitress. "Got a few warrants out, you know, b and e’s, aggravated assault,  a gta, kinda need to avoid the east coast for a while."

"Dean, goddamit, did dad get you into trouble again?" 

"Chill out, I’ve been finding some jobs solo for myself."

"You’re still doing it, without him?"

"What can I say it’s what I’m good at." 

"You’re good at a lot of things."

The conversation died a little when their food came, Dean’s mouth too full of burger to do anything but hum contentedly while Sam stuffed his face with rabbit’s food. When most of his salad was gone and he was just picking at it, Sam looked like he wanted to pick back up on Dean’s work, on their dad, but he was hunched over and looking around guilty eyed. Dean took pity on him. The kid was always too stubborn about the ethics of being a thief and a con for a living. Hey, Dean picked marks that wouldn’t miss it, didn’t need it, or didn’t deserve it. For him, that was good enough. 

"I actually got a job, it’s under the table of course, but you know, it’s steady work."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, at a garage. I’ve had my own apartment for a few months now." 

"That’s great." 

Dean shrugged, non-committal, staying in one place too long just made him feel antsy anymore, got under his skin and made him want to start breaking things. 

Sam had his hands cupped around his mug, one finger tapping at the handle. “You know, I’m almost done with junior year, and I was going to try and save up for a car this summer. Figured it would be good to have to maybe travel a little and figure out what I want to do after senior year, see where I can go. If you’re still in one place, I could always come by and see you sometimes.”

Sam finally looked straight at him, and there was such broken open hungry hope in his eyes, it made Dean swallow hard. Maybe he could stay in one place long enough, be one person for a while, hold down a job. Probably wouldn’t go over well with dad, if he ever got in contact trying to get Dean in on a job, but it would go over well with Sam. 

"Yeah, that uh, we’ll see."

—S—

‘We’ll see’ didn’t sound like much, but it was more than Sam ever thought he’d get from Dean. He usually got hard edged ‘no’s’ and pleading ‘fuck, Sammy I can’t’. So a ‘we’ll see’ made him smile a little wider, knock his knees against Dean under the table, trying to tell his brother without saying it just how much he’d like to have more of Dean in his life. Because putting it in words would only make Dean squirm. 

The waitress came by, dropping off the check, and Sam reached into his pocket for his wallet, he knew there was no way Dean would let him pay for both of them, but he could at least pay for himself. Or not.

"C’mon man, ain’t gotta do that. I got it covered." 

"Dean." 

"Put that away Sammy."

With an exaggerated sigh, he pocketed his wallet again. Hopefully, Dean was being paid decent at his job. Sam knew he was a great mechanic. Still, there were probably plenty of things Dean needed that he wasn’t buying himself because he was a stubborn bastard. 

"Ok, but I’m going to buy a few rounds of drinks tonight." 

"Baby boy we are not even going to need to pay for drinks tonight." 

"Dean."

"I know you like watching me play pool. Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft on it now."

"I’ve gone soft on conning people. I know how to win with my skill though."

"See now, won’t be a need for us to buy drinks.”

“Whatever. We both know we shouldn’t get money involved if we’re looking to … find someone friendly.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Look, don’t worry about it Sam. I got it, just let me.”

Sam frowned at Dean, but his brother was busy pulling cash out of his wallet to pay for the food. “You look pretty good De, you swear you’ve been looking out for yourself?”

“Pretty good? Dude, I look like a million bucks. And yeah, I got a roof, I got food, I’m good man. I’m serious.”

“Has dad, uh, has he been in touch with you, does he know?”

Dean beamed at the waitress with a ‘the food was great’, before turning back to Sam and sighing, hands folded in front of him on the table. 

“No. He doesn’t know yet. I haven’t heard from him for a months. Been keeping an eye and an ear out, I don’t think he’s in any trouble, probably just laying low.”

Sam nodded, he didn’t need this conversation hanging over them, didn’t need the weight and guilt of it. “Yeah, ok. So. Still too early to go to the bar, or you want to play some darts?”  
  
—D—

His brother would never give it a rest, making him feel guilty for still defending their dad. It’s not like John Winchester was a shining beacon of fatherhood, but it’s not like he was the worst either. Dean had liked, for the most part, the kind of work their dad taught them. Plenty of people in the world did plenty of illegal things. And there were plenty of legal things that were still down right wrong. So really, politics and morals could go screw themselves. He did what made sense to him. He was a loyal son, but he would still protect his brother with everything he had, even if he felt torn between his dad and Sam.

It wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Sam was off doing his own thing, and John had just … maybe he got tired of Dean or Dean had gotten in the way. Maybe John was still torn up about what had happened with Sam that he was still working through that in his own way. Despite what Sam believed, their dad loved him, fiercely. Dean figured they were probably just too similar to each other, like the same charged ends of magnets that push each other apart. 

It didn’t matter. Dean was figuring out how to be his own man without his father to guide him or his brother to give him purpose. It kind of felt like a void at first. But he was doing pretty good for himself. He kind of liked staying in one place, seeing the same crowds of people that got to know him, making friends. And if Sam was going to get a car, if they could see each other more often, that would definitely make it worth it. 

Dean swiped a hand over his mouth, looking out at the still bright sky. Probably wouldn’t hit dusk for another hour or so. There definitely wouldn’t be much of a crowd at the bar. But a few drinks and some darts sounded more than fine to him. 

“Sure, lets head out.”

Sliding out of the booth, Dean winked at the waitress while Sam rolled his eyes and headed out to the Impala. The town was pretty dinky, some no name place, but it was near a large city. There’d probably be a lot of overflow. Dean had already picked out a bar to take Sam to. He usually tended to drift towards Sam like a spiral, circling closer and closer while he made up his mind. Once he found somewhere near enough, he’d hang out a few days and see what was what. It wasn’t because he was nervous or working up the courage to drive up and get his brother. Nah. Nothing like that. 

The bar was a pretty small joint, worn down on the outside but taken care of on the inside. It was like a thousand other bars, same set up, same function, but it was it’s own sort of joint, independently owned. The crowd ran on the rougher side, and it was just where Dean blended in to, where he felt right at.

—C—

It had been a very long, and very rewarding, week for Castiel. The plane ride all the way out to California was tiring but uneventful, settling in to his mid-grade hotel the same generic set up as every other Holiday Inn hotel around the country that he always reserved. There was something comfortable in the familiarity that put him at ease, although what he craved was a little something new. But he’d get that on the weekend. The week was for work, for his reason to be here in the first place. Meetings with the director and registrar of the Getty Center, negotiations made for scheduling the traveling exhibit that Castiel wanted to feature at the Guggenheim.  

All in all, he had a very successful week. He kept Anna, their exhibit designer, abreast of his progress during the week through e-mail and skype, and she was already excited for the pieces that would eventually make a tour stop at their museum. Anna was the best friend he had at work, and he always bounced ideas off her before approaching anyone else, even if it technically wasn’t within her scope of duties. Of course, he had to trade several very formal emails with Naomi, their director, to finalize the details. Dealing with her was always stressful, but he could admit that she was excellent at her job.   

It was Friday night and the time was solely his. Castiel didn’t have any meetings, any work to tend, he didn’t have any family obligations because he was on the other side of the country, he didn’t have anything to do but fill his time until he was scheduled to be on a plane back home Saturday at 2:35 P.M. He found himself sitting in his rental car - a 2007 Toyota Camry - in the gravel parking lot of a rough looking bar. 

The other cars in the lot were older, or sleeker, and there was a row of motorcycles along the front of the building. The squat wood sided building sat alone, vacant lots overgrown with weeds to either side of it, with a gas station across the street and a diner a stone’s throw away from that. It was past the outskirts of the town far away from the city where he was staying, away from the lights and crowded spaces. Isolated.

This wasn’t Castiel’s usual ritual. He was more comfortable where he could blend in. Sleek city bars of steel and glass, places that touted themselves as gay bars, complete with drag shows and themed nights. Where there were business men, and colorful drinks, and the rules of interaction were a little more clearly spelled out. He liked to go places where homosexuality wasn’t something hidden and dirty, where it was not only accepted but celebrated even.

The only time Castiel let himself indulge in these deviant tendencies was when he was miles and miles away from home. Although he had grown out of the teenage years fraught with guilt and a pervading sense of wrongness, he wasn’t comfortable quite yet with who he was. Revealing his sexual identity would undoubtedly, and unequivocally, mean severing himself from his family. Homosexuality was without a doubt a grave sin to his very conservative family. Castiel wasn’t sure if he was ready to break away from them yet. For all their faults and all the difficulty of attempting to be what they wanted him to be, Castiel still loved them. All of them, his sisters and his brothers, his mother, his father recently departed.

Sometimes he felt like a coward and a fool. He’d never told his father what he was in life. He’d never have the chance too. He would probably never tell his mother either. Maybe some of his siblings, some day. For now though, Castiel had his rituals, he had his time away when he was on business that he could seek some sense of comfort and relief, even if it were shallow and transient.

This bar, it wasn’t the sort of place he usually found himself at. Castiel wasn’t certain what he was looking for tonight. He had simply driven until the nervous dread in his gut slowly unwound and the neon signs of the bar lured him closer. He was certainly out of place here, several heads in the bar swiveling to look at him in his business suit and trench coat where everyone else was wearing jeans. Perhaps he’d drive on to another place. A shot or two wouldn’t affect him enough to drive, and it was certainly welcome. Since he was already here, he sat at the bar and waved down the barman for a shot of vodka. 

—S—

If Sam were completely honest with himself, the kind of bars that Dean picked out weren’t really his thing. They had rolled up to a worn down looking place as dusk was deepening in the sky, neon lights starting to flick on in the windows, only a few beat up cars and motorcycles gathered in the lot. The floors were sticky under his feet, boots coming up with a squeak he could hear when the music lulled, the twang of country and the riff of easier rock coming out of a juke box in the corner. The pool tables were scuffed and scratched, and the rest of the sparse furniture was in worse condition than that. Most of the people had sharp mean edges, wary eyes, worn old clothes.

Sam, if he picked himself, tended to go for places that were a little cleaner, a little safer. It wasn’t like he minded this sort of haunt, but, it was more Dean’s thing than his. Sam still felt comfortable in these sorts of places, for the most part, he’d been around it enough and far earlier than he probably should have that it didn’t really bother him.

Sometimes Sam wondered why Dean liked these kinds of places. If he genuinely enjoyed the murky atmosphere and shifty people. Or if he was like Sam, if he felt comfortable round these places because it was a remnant from dad, because Dean was raised around this sort of thing even earlier than Sam was. Maybe it was just comfortable because it was familiar. It wasn’t really Sam’s thing, but he didn’t mind, if Dean were there too.

They got in early for the night crowd, the place sparsely populated by a few after work guys slouched at the bar. Sam played a few rounds of darts with Dean and they each had a couple of beers. Dean usually drank a lot more, but he always held back and kept himself sober enough to deal with any trouble when he brought Sam out. The crowd slowly filled in, the locals casting glances their way and chatting easily with the barman. They wouldn’t be conning pool tonight, not when they were looking for a pick up, but a few friendly games were always welcome.

Sam kept an eye on the people coming in, didn’t really see much that he liked, though Dean pointed out a few with mild interest. Too suspicious looking, poor hygiene, shifty motherfucker. They started up a game with someone that might do, he was clean and decent looking and had broad rough calloused hands, but Sam didn’t like how his smile sat on his face.

Sam missed a new guy coming in, didn’t see him until he was seated at the bar with straight posture tipping back a shot of something clear. He didn’t look like a local, didn’t look like this was his kind of place either, but here he was. Wearing a tan trench coat and a suit, he stuck out like a sore thumb among all the plaid and ripped jeans and heavy boots. When the stranger glanced over towards the pool table, dark hair mussed up, eyes a bright blue even in the dim smoky bar, his severe face backlit by a round bar light that cast shadows across his straight nose and sharp jaw, Sam knew he wanted to take this guy back to the motel.

—D—

It’s the same kind of joint like so many Dean’s seen before. The details are always different, mis-matched glasses and furniture, framed pictures on the walls of local attractions, walls pitted around the dart boards. But the feel is the same. A little sketchy. A little dangerous. A little dirty. It feels like home. Dean’s just in his element in places like this, and it feels like he has all his limbs when Sam’s next to him again.

He knows his brother wasn’t really made for an aimless vagrant, bar brawl, petty felonies, sleeping in the car kind of life. It’s good Sam found his own way, it is. But Dean still misses this. Sam’s still not quite legal to drink, but that’s okay cause Dean’s got an ID for him. Knocking back a few beers, playing darts, challenging some tough guys to pool; it looks like it might be slim pickings here tonight for their intentions, but it’s still a good time. It’s early in the night anyway, and if the crowd doesn’t fill in they can always go somewhere else.

After they win another game of pool and the other guys leave to get more drinks, Dean starts setting up the table for another game. But then Sam nudges him with a foot under the table, leaning against his pool cue, and nodding towards the bar.

Dean noticed the guy Sam was gesturing at right away, looking like he took a wrong turn somewhere. He was wearing enough layers of clothes that Dean couldn’t really tell what his body would be like underneath them all, but the stare he fixed towards them was intense. Dean’s not too sure what it is the guy is trying to convey, when he squints and tilts his head to the side a little, but Dean’s interested, he’ll bite.

"Sammy, why don’t you finish setting up the table."

Dean winked at his brother, set his cue down next to the table and gave Sam the triangle to finish lining up the balls.

"Yeah, sure Dean."

He swaggered over to the bar, and Dean never needed to weave through crowds they just sort of parted for him. He leaned against the bar next to mystery guy and waved the barman over, ordering a whiskey. He didn’t look over to the guy, but he could feel the guy looking at him. Picking up his glass, he turned to face the pool table in the middle of the room, where Sam was faced away from them and bent over setting it up with his shirt riding up his back so a sliver of tan skin was visible above the tight pull of his jeans over his ass.

Dean took a sip, looking at Sam, then looked over to Mr Serious as he was now dubbed.

"You don’t look like you’re from round here."

"No, I’m from New York ."

Mr Serious had a row of three empty shot glasses tipped over on the bar in front of him.

"City slicker huh? I saw you looking at my boy."

"Oh."

Mr Serious’ face hardened just a little, lips turning down, brow creased, and he was a hard son of a bitch to get a read on. Dean wasn’t sure if he was insulted or interested. Well, a straight approach was always his thing. Leaning towards the guy, one elbow propped on the bar, Dean tipped his glass back and licked his lips, setting it down on the bar and easing closer in to the other guys personal space.

"You looking for a good time sweetheart?"

—C—

It would be difficult not to notice the group of men playing pool at the table. Castiel felt that this was the sort of place that he shouldn’t look too closely, shouldn’t stare too long, and he was almost ready to give in to the impulse to flee. Then the broad shouldered, tall man in worn jeans and a plaid shirt over a faded band tee - pretty much dressed like everyone else here - looked up at him and Castiel felt that if he could see this man a little closer he would be so much prettier.

Then the man had come over his way, leaned back like he owned the bar, talked about the other guy he had been playing pool with who was setting it up by himself now - his boy - and Castiel wasn’t certain what to make of the situation. If he read it wrong he might get a black eye for his trouble, or worse, but when the man licked off his lips and leaned closer, sweetheart, Castiel couldn’t quite bring himself to care what trouble he was getting himself in to.

"That depends. What are you offering?"

The man tipped his head back, laughing, and oh his eyes were green this close even in the variegated neon of bar signs, a smattering of freckles across his nose. He reached out a hand.

"I’m Dean."

Castiel shook his hand, considered giving an alias but he was all the way across the country and he wanted Dean to know his real name.

"Castiel."

Dean looked him up and down, like he was considering the strange name of the strange man. Then he turned back towards the pool table, where the other was leaning against it, hip cocked and eyes fixed on them. Dean gave him a nod and the man was walking over, standing next to Castiel on the other side so he was boxed in.

Dean spoke, “And this is Sam.”

Castiel swiveled in his stool and gave a polite nod to Sam, who held out his hand as well, which Castiel accepted in a handshake. He had massive hands, broad palms and long fingers. Sam was about as tall as Dean, more narrow, he couldn’t quite call the young man slender. Castiel was hooked when Sam smiled, all sweet dimpled, his shaggy hair fallen into his eyes.

"Hi."

"Hello Sam."

Dean placed a hand on Castiel’s shoulder, something casually intimate, and introduced him like he had introduced Sam.

"Sammy, this is Cas."

Sam sat on a stool, hunching over himself, one leg propped up on the bar foot rest and the other stretched out in front of him. He asked Castiel, “Do you like playing pool?”

"I’m afraid I don’t know how."

“Oh. So what brings you to a place like this?”

"I guess you could say I’m looking for a ‘good time’."

Castiel really needed to stop using air quotes, he wasn’t quite sure where he picked up on that habit and he wasn’t certain if Dean was laughing again because of that or because Castiel was parroting his words, but it didn’t feel like a teasing or spiteful laugh. It was something warm and pleased; Castiel wanted to hear these two outside the noisy din of the bar.

—S—

So, this guy, Cas, came to a biker bar in a suit and tie knocking back shots like they were water, he had blue eyes that Sam thought might just be hypnotic, and his voice sounded like he smoked several packs a day but he didn’t smell like it, no he smelled clean and refreshing like rain wet grass. Sam wasn’t sure if his awkward bluntness was some kind of contrived flirtation, or just who he was.

It was always at least a little dangerous, picking up a stranger at a bar, but Sam could handle himself and Dean, well Dean was one of those dangerous sorts of people. Cas was calm, and low key, and although Sam was mostly certain that he did want something from them, there was something a little blank about him.

"So is a good time for you reading with a cup of tea, or following strangers back to their motel room?"

Cas narrowed his eyes, and oh yeah, those were bedroom eyes. Or at least they fucking should be.

"The latter."

Sam smiled at Cas, smiled at Dean looking at him over Cas’ shoulder, slipped to the edge of his stool and leaned closer.

"Should we cover the usual ‘where do you live’, ‘where do you work’, ‘what’s your favorite color’?"

Cas still had his hands folded in his lap. Dean was in his space, a hand on his shoulder, and he was still sitting like he had a rod through his spine. Sam was good at noticing details, the way his eyebrows twitched, how his cheeks were just a little pinker, how he pursed his lips.

"I don’t think that’s necessary. Unless you would like to know."

Dean had his cocky ‘closing the deal’ grin on as he leaned a little further in.

"Little mystery keeps it interesting don’t you think? But there are a few things I gotta go over with you first."

Sam was already getting turned on thinking about what they could do with this guy, what he looked like under his suit, how much they could wreck his stoic demeanor. This was one of his favorite parts, listening to Dean laying down the rules. Watching him slip into that role, that little niche they’d carved for themselves. Dean would tell the stranger exactly what was expected of him, what they wanted from him. He always made it sound like he owned Sam, and as messed up as it might be Sam loved it.

People probably thought they were boyfriends, or fuck buddies at least. Sam couldn’t have what he wanted in real life, but he could feed on the fantasies that other people had about them.

—D—

Dean stood next to where Cas was seated on the bar stool, looming over him. His hand was still resting on Cas’ shoulder, sliding around to cup the back of his neck. Cas was stiff, too rigid, and Dean figured he definitely needed a good way to relax. His skin was warm and Dean could feel the flutter of his rapid pulse in the side of his neck when Dean curled his fingers around. Cas stared at him with narrowed eyes and Dean felt like he was put under a magnifying glass. He leaned over Cas, being physically dominant in his space. Cas didn’t lean away or slump down or even rise to meet Dean. Instead he licked his lower lip with one quick movement and asked, “What kind of rules?”

"Name of the game is Simon Says. You ever play that game when you were a kid?"

On Cas’ other side, Sam was still sitting in his stool, on foot pushed up onto the crossbar on Cas’ stool. Sam was smiling at Dean, relishing the chase, the set up. They didn’t usually find the right kind of guy on the first attempt, and sometimes it was fun to make a guy squirm until he scampered away. Cas was … he was something else.

"I have."

He was simple, straight forward. Dean didn’t feel so much like he was hiding things, just that he boiled things down to the most basic and necessary and if there was nothing else to say, he didn’t.

"Well now, in this game, I’m Simon."

Cas nodded once in understanding.

"So if you think you can listen real good to what I tell you to do, we could have a fun time playing, all three of us."

Cas looked over to Sam, and back to Dean, his eyes opening a little rounder as he arched an eyebrow.

"I am very good at taking instruction."

Dean huffed a short laugh. “Good, good. I like to hear that.”

"What sort of … instructions might you give me?"

Dean brushed his fingertips against the shell of Cas’ ear, stooping forward to whisper lowly, “I want you to fuck him while I watch. You might have to tie him up, see he gets real rowdy, and you might have to discipline him. Is that something you might want to do for me Cas?”

Cas spoke lower, closer to Dean, “I would”, his eyes flicked between Sam and Dean again, “Are you two boyfriends?”

—C—

Castiel couldn’t help the small amount of curiosity. Well, he was actually very curious, but he didn’t want to appear overly so. It wasn’t honestly his business whether they were boyfriends or not, what sort of relationship they had. If all that was expected of him was a one night stand, and that was all he wanted - that was all he could have - then it was straight forward. He didn’t need to know. He still asked.

Dean was standing close enough to him that Castiel could feel the man’s body heat, could smell the leather of his jacket and the salt of his skin. Rough calloused fingers curved around his neck, holding and faintly threatening. It made his pulse quicken, not in an unenjoyable way, although he tried not to shift and give away that he was already getting hard in his slacks. Was that so surprising, being caught between these two like a fly with it’s legs stuck in a spot of honey.

Dean rolled a shoulder in a half shrug, responding vaguely with “Something like that.”

Sam was quiet, hooking his leg against Castiel’s stool and leaning closer as well. There was a pink tinge to his cheeks and his lips shone in the dim bar light like he had been licking them. Castiel was very hungry too.

Dean had a grin on his face that looked like it was meant to lure someone in and disarm them, but his teeth were sharp. White and neat. Castiel wanted to know what they’d feel like sinking in to his skin. 

"It’s not important. But what is important, is for you to understand something.” Dean’s hand curled tighter against the nape of his neck, squeezing the sensitive spot. "That if you hurt Sam, any more than I tell you to, I will hurt you."

He shouldn’t do this. There was something sharp to these men, something Castiel couldn’t understand, but he had to admit to himself that he wanted to taste it, to know it, to know them. He shouldn’t go away with two strangers. He shouldn’t let himself be vulnerable to them in the ways that Dean insinuated. The wanting to, though, it itched under his skin like if he didn’t scratch himself apart to find it, it would tear it’s way out.

"You will do exactly what I tell you to, when I tell you to. You understand me, Cas?"

He could feel his throat muscles work to swallow. “I understand.”

Dean’s smile widened, crinkling in the corner of his eyes and they were so vivid, an over saturated green. “Then we’re going to have a good time, sweetheart.”

—S—

Sam couldn’t help his knee from twitching up and down, jerking with a nervous energy that was more a sense of anticipation than any kind of fear. He could hear the low rumble of his brother’s voice but when he leaned closer to Cas, Sam couldn’t make out the words over the crowd of the bar. He knew what the speech was, though, and the way Cas kept looking between the two of them, trying to figure it out, trying to decide if it was worth it, Sam put on his best sweet boy smile to convince him.

Dean’s voice was loud enough for Sam to hear when he called Cas a sweetheart one more time. Sam was ready to go. He was excited, and nervous, and horny, and curious - Dean always brought new surprises for him. He couldn’t ever seem to find this- whatever this was - with anyone else on his own. Sam didn’t seem that good at communicating what he wanted, least not when what he wanted was the sorts of things he thought he shouldn’t have. Dean just knew. Or maybe it wasn’t what Dean told other guys to do to Sam, maybe it was just his brother. Dean’s presence, his voice, his gaze on Sam so focused it was palpable.

Yeah. That was it. And Sam didn’t care what he had to do to get it.

Standing and scooting the stool back, Sam pushed his hands in his pockets and stepped over to Dean. Cas stood, putting cash down on the bar. He’d had a few shots but he still looked all there, standing as straight as he sat, his voice clear and enunciated. Sam watched his fingers unfolding and folding his wallet, long digits slender with neat trimmed nails, his skin smooth.

Dean was telling Cas to follow them, the name of the motel they were staying at. The air outside the bar was cool and refreshing after the press of so many bodies close together. A few people stood near the entrance smoking and laughing. Sam could feel Cas’ eyes on him, following him as he trailed next to his brother. Dean pointed out his car for Cas, and Cas just nodded as he walked towards his own.

The Impala calmed Sam, the familiarity of it, the dip of the passenger seat that molded to his body. Dean turned her on, tapping his fingers on the wheel and sitting for a moment while he watched Cas getting in to his car across the gravel lot. Sam’s leg was still jittering.

Dean glanced over to him. “You good Sammy?”

Sam nodded eagerly, smiling when he answered, “Yeah De.”


	2. Watch me watch you

-  
  
—D—

Dean drove the Impala back to their motel, with Sam practically vibrating in the seat next to him. Still flushed warm from the whiskey and relaxed, but with steady hands and a clear head, he kept his eyes on the rear view mirror where the head lights from Cas’ Camry shone. Pink Floyd played low and sweet, crooning out ‘Comfortably Numb’ while Dean tapped on the steering wheel. It wasn’t too far from the bar back to their motel, and the third they picked up kept close to them, pulling in next to the Impala before Dean could even get her turned off.

Sam was out of the car first, closing the door hard behind him, hands balled up in the pockets of his hoodie while he looked at Cas getting out of the car, hungry eyes and sweet smile. Dean made his way around the car and leaned against her. Cas licked his lips once, probably didn’t even mean to, looking between Dean and Sam.

"Come on then."

Dean tipped his head towards the motel and hopped over the cement lip of the lot, leading them inside. It was a cheap place but tidy, everything they’d need for the night already stashed strategically around the room and everything else tucked away. There was a bottle of whiskey on the table with three paper dixie cups from the bathroom on it. Dean kicked off his shoes while he made his way over.

Probably one of the best things he liked about this place, why he picked it out after scoping a few others, was that there was a large mirror on the ceiling above the bed. Dean didn’t like to move around too much in the middle of the fun parts, didn’t like to startle the third or pull Sam out of his head space. Having a mirror up on the ceiling, he could get to see all kinds of interesting angles.

Sam took his shoes off at the door, like Dean, and Cas followed suit. Didn’t even need to be told to, followed along with what Dean and Sam did, that was good. Dean took his coat off and slung it over the back of a chair, Sam did too, and Cas. Standing next to the table, he poured a finger of whiskey in each of the small cups. There were daisy flowers on the sides of them, with that waxy kind of coating. Dean passed them off.

"Here. Bottoms up."

Dean winked at Cas and tipped his cup back, the other two taking their shots and setting the cups back on the table. It wasn’t much. Enough to relax your muscles, settle warm in the belly, just for a while. Enough to give you an excuse to loosen your hang ups and inhibitions. Not too much to make Cas unsteady. Dean had been watching how he held himself, how much he drank. He looked like a responsible guy.

Sam was twisting his fingers in the hem of his shirt, smiling at Cas. Dean sat down in the wood chair he’d pulled out to the foot of the bed.

"Go on baby boy, why don’t you show him what he’s got himself in for."

—C—

Castiel had followed them back to the motel in the silence of his car, wondering if he really should get himself involved with two men. He’d never done that before. The older one, Dean, he had a dangerous edge to him in the slant of his smile and the glint of his eyes. But Sam, there was something under the surface of his soft dimpled smile that Castiel felt he shouldn’t prod too closely at. They intrigued him. He had to admit, that low thrumming sense of imminent danger that settled under his skin had only made this more interesting, made him want.

The two men mirrored each other, he noticed more out of the crowd of the bar. How they stood, leaned against the car with the same leg crossed over an ankle, how they kicked off their shoes and tipped their head the same way. They must have been partners for a long time, to be so in tune to each other.

Castiel accepted the shot, already sobered up from what little he drank. He preferred not to be inebriated, but such a small amount would barely affect him. It would be impolite not to accept. Since they had all been poured from the same bottle, he didn’t worry about it. When Dean ordered Sam to take off his clothes, the young man was quick to comply. He pulled his shirt up and flung it into the corner, whipped his belt out of the loops and held it in his broad hands while he kicked off his jeans and toed out of his socks. He kept the black leather belt in one hand while he turned around, preening.

There was something undeniably alluring about the feigned innocence in the way Sam presented himself. With his eyes downcast, biting at his lower lip and blushing, Sam twisted his body around in just the right way to accentuate his muscles and the lines of body, the taut curve of his ass. Oh, he was anything but innocent.

Castiel didn’t consider himself to be very good at ‘dirty talk’. He already knew Dean would be excellent, with the sure confidence he held himself with, and that deep scratch of a voice that made the hair on Castiel’s arms prickle. Castiel tended to be quiet - too much perhaps - too severe, too serious, too cold. It wasn’t his intention.

Loosening his tie and popping the first few buttons on his white shirt, he watched Sam. “You’re a very good boy, aren’t you Sam.”

It was more a statement than a question, and it made Dean smile with something like pride as he eased back in his chair. Sam seemed surprised to be told as much, perhaps it was a little early in the game, but he smiled as well and cast his glance down, shaggy hair fallen over his eyes.

He was younger than Castiel usually picked up, smooth skin across his chest, muscles firm and lightly developed. Pubic hair trimmed severely short, his cock was either more impressive than Castiel expected or already thickening under the attention. His legs were long and powerfully built. He looked like a puppy that hadn’t grown to it’s full size but you knew how much there would be by the size of it’s paws. His hands were massive.

Dean had already laid down the rule that he was to do nothing until Dean told him to, so Castiel stood feeling caught between Sam and Dean, feeling as though their attentions to each other were running through him like a conduit.

—S—

Dean had only given him a small shot, and Sam hoped it was just to start but he wouldn’t ask for more. Out of all of them he was probably the most drunk still from the bar. Not enough that he was uncoordinated or sloppy, but any inhibitions were pretty much long gone. It wasn’t like he liked to be so drunk he wouldn’t remember, he just liked that loose free floating when he felt like a rag doll under someone else’s hands. Kind of disconnected, like he was someone else.

He stripped, quick and efficient, when Dean said, tossing his clothes in the corner because he couldn’t give a damn to fold them. Sam kept his belt in his hand, he’d probably need that. It was one of the sorts that had eyelets along the whole length of the black leather. It wasn’t as though someone would need to use them all to tighten it around their waist. Dean had the same kind of belt too, but he was already sitting down in a chair just watching Sam.

Castiel had a rough voice, like Dean, and he shivered to think of both of them telling him what to do. Telling him he was a good boy. He’d only taken his clothes off and Cas liked him already. Looking down at his feet, at the ugly mustard yellow carpet of the motel as he scrunched his toes on it, Sam fidgeted. He didn’t usually ask Dean for much, but he was in a petulant mood. He wanted it hard tonight - ‘feel it for a week’ hard, ‘take pictures with his cell of the bruises tomorrow to remember it’ hard.

"De, are you wearing them for me?"

"You making demands already Sammy?"

"Deeaaan."

"Yeah I’m wearing them."

"Will you show me? I bet Cas would like to see."

Castiel was loosening his tie, looking between them, one eyebrow cocked up in silent question. Dean sighed like it was just so hard to give Sam what he wanted. But he stood up, pulled his shirts over his head and tossed them in the corner with Sam’s clothes, thick fingers working at his belt buckle and when his jeans slid down Sam could see the slip of pink lace hugging Dean’s hips.

Next to him, Castiel’s fingers twitched as he exhaled a quiet ‘Oh’.

"I give you what you want so early in the game baby boy, you know you’ll be paying for it."

"De. Come on. Anything you want."

"What do you think Cas? Not sure if we should spoil him too much."

Cas’ gaze was fixed below Dean’s belly button where his hands were playing with the open buckle of his belt, thumbs running under the lace waist band, the little pink bow in the middle visible. Dean was teasing them and he was just too good at it. Sam had always been stuck in Dean’s orbit, the casual way he moved like he wasn’t even trying to be sexy but he couldn’t be anything else.

Cas wasn’t looking at Sam, but Sam could swear there was a little smile curling in the corner of his lips when he told Dean, “I’m sure he’ll earn it.”

—D—

Dean sniggered and pulled the belt out of his pants; he’d be using that. He turned himself sideways and set the belt on the table, making sure Sam and Cas had a nice view while he pushed the jeans down his hips and bent forward to pull his socks off with it. He had found a place that sold ladies wear for men, and spent a little on himself. Had to admit, it looked a lot better, smooth pink satin clinging to his ass with that pretty fringe of lace along the legs and waist of it. He was half hard already, but wasn’t falling out of them, nice bulge straining against the satin when he turned around and there were two sets of eyes fixed on him.

Sam was already blushing like a fucking virgin and Dean never could understand how he managed to look so sweet when he was just so dirty. He had his belt still in his hand, holding on to it for Dean, waiting. Dean had to admit, he liked being watched like this too. Liked the way their gazes fixed on him. It made him uncomfortable, sometimes, to be the center of attention for too long. There were a lot of walls that he hadn’t really torn down yet. It took Sam a good bit of begging for Dean to wear panties in front of him. His brother had found them in the bottom of one of his duffel bags.

Now, Dean may get excited by watching a stranger fuck his brother, but it was Sam who had started pushing all the weird shit. Belts, and rope, and toys. Then he wanted to see Dean in the panties, wanted to watch Dean while Dean watched him. Dean might be a little worried just how much his baby brother could wheedle out of him, but he had to admit it was a little freeing finding out just how easy it was to find people messed up like them out there.

Dean picked his belt back up off the table, stepped towards Sam and took his, handed them both off to Cas, who was still mostly dressed. Cas took the belts, holding them both folded in half in one of his hands, and they were smooth slender hands that looked like they didn’t see a lot of hard work. Dean sat back down in his chair, one arm slung over the back, bow legs stretched out like an offering neither one of them would get.

"On your knees."

Sam kneeled in front of the bed, a few feet away from Dean, already clasping his hands together behind his back and Cas seemed to know what to do as he moved around behind Sam with both belts in his hand. Sam was licking his lips and Dean could tell he was trying not to squirm.

—C—

Castiel felt a little over dressed for the situation when Dean stripped down to a pair of silk and lace pink panties. They contoured to his body in a way that only exaggerated his masculinity, lace of the waist resting low under the cut of his hip, shiny satin pulling tight across his backside, and the carnation pink of them contrasted his tan skin nicely. Castiel couldn’t help wondering if Dean bottomed for Sam outside of this strange dynamic they had going tonight. If there was rigidity to their relationship or if they were different alone with each other. Because the curve of his legs looked perfect for wrapping around someone’s waist.

Of course, Castiel did not say as much. He had stopped unbuttoning his shirt to watch Dean, then both belts were being handed to him and Sam was kneeling on the floor so he forgot entirely about his state of dress. He could guess what the belts were for, moving behind Sam, his head bowed forward and the slope of his shoulders pulling back while he clasped his arms behind his back.

"One belt above the elbow, one at the wrists."

Castiel nodded at Dean’s instruction, set one of the belts on the bed while he strapped the other snug over Sam’s biceps a few inches above his elbows. Castiel pulled it tight, shoulder blades pushed back to jut out taut under his skin as the spine arched, till the belt dug in to the flesh enough to sit still without cutting off circulation too tight. Sam was flexible enough his elbows almost touched. Castiel understood why they were wearing matching belts now as it was easy to secure it in the eyelets. The belt for the wrists, though, would leave too much extra length if he secured it with the eyelets, so instead he folded it, circled one wrist and crossed over to circle the other, pulling it tight with itself and worrying the leather to cinch with the friction.

Sam settled back on his heels, arms bound behind him. Dean was palming himself where he sat, readjusting his erection so it pushed up past the waist but leaving it mostly covered in the pink panties. He looked at Castiel, “Good, now come on around, give me your belt.”

He was only wearing a plain black leather belt that was about an inch thick. Taking it off, he handed it to Dean, who left it draped over one of his thighs.  Dean grinned at Castiel before looking over Sam, fingers stroking along the leather of the belt.

"Wanna see you suck his cock baby boy." Dean nodded at Castiel, "Go on sweetheart."

He felt his cheeks flush when Dean called him sweetheart, and Castiel found himself entranced by the man’s voice, feeling like he and Sam were both flies caught in the honey now.

—S—

Taking a deep breath when he felt the belts dig into the muscle of his arms, Sam tried not to fidget, to hold his arms back far for Cas. The crappy motel carpet was scratchy against his knees and shins. He wondered if he’d get fucked on it, if he was going to have rug burns on his knees from it. On his cheek and chest too if he got pressed down against it with his arms tied behind his back.

Head bowed forward, his cock was hard by the time Cas finished tying his wrists. Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye, watched his brother adjusting but not quite taking himself out yet, just the head of his cock poking over the pretty panties he wore and Sam wanted to see it drip come down on that little satin bow.

Then Cas was moving, giving Dean his belt, standing in front of Sam. He knelt up and pressed his face against Cas’ pants, could feel how he was almost hard as Sam mouthed along the outline of his cock, tried to catch the button in his teeth and pull it. He could mostly keep his balance but kept tipping forward a little, unable to right himself he just pressed against Cas. Turning his feet down to dig the balls of his feet against the floor, scrunch his toes to get a little traction, Sam pressed against Cas while the man started undressing more.

His fingers were long and slender, dexterous as he popped the button single handed with his other hand slipping through Sam’s hair, holding him back a little like Cas was trying to keep a treat from a dog. Sam whimpered for him, turned his eyes up and pouted and Cas.

Cas was smiling down at him, pushing his pants open, “Eager boy, aren’t you?”

Sam licked his lips and nodded, tipping forward when Cas had his cock out, hard and twitching and it was hot in Sam’s mouth.  He wrapped his lips around the head and sucked while Cas finished pushing his pants and boxers down, started unbuttoning his shirt. Sam liked the way his laundry detergent smelled on his neat pressed clothes. He seemed like a careful man, tidy, orderly. It just made Sam want to break his composure.

Sam was working halfway down his cock when Cas shrugged out of his button down, holding it in his hands like he wasn’t sure what to do with it when he had someone on his cock, and he finally tossed it in the corner with the rest of their clothes. Then he was pulling his undershirt up and winner winner, Dean knew how to pick them.

His cock was nice, but with the rest of him, damn. Sam couldn’t really tell, he wasn’t as good at undressing someone with his eyes like Dean, what with the neat suit and baggy coat he wasn’t sure if Cas would be the dough pudge kind of accountant or not, but he clearly took care of his body. Slender but built, his abs clenched when he twisted to toss his shirt aside, and he had nicely defined pecs. Sam smiled around the cock in his mouth and took it to the base, inhaling the faint salt smell of Cas when his pubes tickled against Sam’s nose.

—D—

Watching appreciatively, something like fondness curled warm in his chest, and Dean didn’t know why it made him proud to see how good his brother was at sucking cock or how much he enjoyed it, but Sam couldn’t keep his face out of Cas’ lap while the guy was still undressing. Sam shifted awkwardly on his knees with his arms behind his back and his balance a little off, tugging at Cas’ clothes with his teeth.

When Cas stripped, Dean pushed his hand down his panties a little further to wrap a hand around his cock. Cas had let his pants drop, pooling around his feet while Sam was latched on to him, pulling his shirt up and tossing it aside. He was tan all the way down his body, no white lines, and Dean loved it. All those little details on a person’s body that told you just a bit more about who they were. As formal and stiff as Cas seemed, if he was the kind of guy that tanned nude on his roof or even a public beach, well Dean liked the thought of that.

Cas was lean muscle, sharp hips, body a nice mix of angles and curves where the lines of his sides slid in from his shoulders and the muscles of his stomach sloped out. He had set one hand in Sam’s hair tentatively, lightly, the other fluttering at his side like he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it. Sam swallowed him down eagerly and staid there, throat muscles working, and Cas was big enough Dean could see Sam’s throat bulging to take it in.

"Get a good hold in his hair Cas, help him out. Yeah like that, do the work for him."

Cas pulled the hair away from Sam’s eyes and gripped it tight behind his head. Dean could see the way Sam relaxed, body slumping as he let himself get handled. Pushing his chest forward so he could tilt his head better, Sam opened up for it. His chin was already slick with spit when Cas started to fuck into his mouth.

"That’s good sweetheart, you can get rough with him."

Cas looked at him, lips parted and panting a little, pupils dilated. He looked at Dean for his approval while he pulled at Sam’s hair and moved his head back and forth. Dean pulled his hand out of his panties and licked his palm wet a few times before pushing it back down and jacking himself slowly, satin drag against the back of his knuckles stretching tight.

—C—

Castiel wasn’t certain on the finer points of etiquette for face fucking. Blow jobs were one thing, the giver was in control for the most part. This, what Dean was telling him to do, was to use Sam. Castiel could feel when he pushed past the hard roof of Sam’s mouth into the tight smooth muscle of his throat. Dean was telling him to do the work, and when Castiel grabbed into Sam’s hair and started to move him, Sam melted into it.

The younger man went pliant, limp like a doll, eyelashes fluttering when he looked up at Castiel with saliva slipping down his chin. When Castiel started to thrust into his mouth, Sam moaned around him, jaw going slack making it so easy to push hard. The sound of it was obscene, Sam never gagged it was just the loud wet squelch as he salivated profusely around Castiel’s cock. Pretty pinks lips stretched wide around him matched the flush on Sam’s cheeks.

Pushing both his hands into Sam’s soft hair, cradling the back of his head, Castiel moved Sam’s head counterpoint to rocking his hips, push pull as he worked into Sam. Going deep into his throat and holding there choking him until Sam started to twitch, then pulling out and shallowly thrusting against his tongue, Castiel held him up while Sam swayed with it.

When he started building up to the edge of an orgasm he pulled out most of the way, resting the head of his cock on Sam’s lips who swirled his tongue over it, flicking under the crease and over the slit.

"Goddam Sammy, you slobber like a fucking dog, I should get you a collar."

Castiel took a shuddering breath trying to calm himself down a little while he looked over at Dean, his lips shining like he was licking at them, cock dripping pre come on his belly.

"You getting a little worked up there Cas?"

"Yes, he has a very skilled tongue."

Sam was sucking at the head of his cock, corners of his lips turned up in what was probably a smile if his mouth wasn’t full.

"Probably should dial it down, gotta take our time, am I right?"

Castiel nodded, pulling out of Sam’s mouth, a thick string of saliva trailing to Sam’s tongue. He continued to pet through Sam’s hair, tucking it behind an ear and scratching lightly. Smearing the pad of his thumb against Sam’s parted lips, he cupped the man’s chin and wiped excess saliva off with the heel of his palm. Sam’s chest was heaving as he breathed heavy.

Pretty hazel eyes were a little glazed over, but quick to come back bright and sharp when Castiel looked at him. He wanted something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to take, and although he was naked with these men and just had his cock down Sam’s throat, he almost felt ridiculous asking. Castiel wasn’t certain if something more tender would be at odds here. So he turned to Dean and asked.

"May I kiss him?"

Dean’s lips went from slack to a surprised ‘o’, but he nodded, a strange look on his face.

"Yeah, sure. Go on."

—S—

It was so easy to yield to Cas. When he grabbed onto Sam’s hair and cradled his head it was firm and sure, not overly rough. Just the right amount of pressure and Sam relaxed his pose to let Cas manhandle him and fuck into his mouth, down his throat. Over the gasp of Cas’ breath, he could hear Dean shifting in his chair. Sam slipped into a deeper space easily under the care of the two of them. Started to feel his mind shutting off. His shoulders ached faintly with the tight pull of his arms back, skin chaffing against the leather, something to focus on and ground him.

Sam had thought about it, before, when all of this really started to get serious. He had wanted to figure it out, psychoanalyze himself - and his brother - to try and pick the meat from the bones so he could see how the skeleton was connected, what made it move the way it did. Because Sam had always been stubborn and headstrong with his dad, with that too tall shadow casting authority figure. Dean had always been more of a dad to Sam, only a few years apart, but Dean was always taking care of him, tucking him in, making sure he got to school, feeding him.  

He saw Dean as more of a father figure, and it was Dean’s approval he craved. Somehow it got twisted up with wanting, maybe because they were so close in age as brothers. Dean was always there wanting to teach him about the birds and the bees, sneak him condoms, set him up with chicks as a teen. There were too many things to pull apart and Sam was still afraid if he ever got to the core of it, it would be an ugly thing. It was a seven layer dip of fucked up daddy issues that Sam really, really did not want to think too hard about.

Then Cas was asking Dean for permission to kiss, like he was some kind of transaction, some kind of property. It didn’t make him feel like something small and dirty though, didn’t make him feel like an object to be broken. He felt like a treasure the way Dean looked at him, the way Cas asked so politely for something as simple as a kiss. He felt protected, wanted, coveted. Cas was so gentle with him, bending down to press their lips together, and Sam wanted to be good for him.

Licking against the seam of his plush lips, Sam whimpered, pushed up on his knees, opened his mouth and invited Cas in. It turned quickly from a chaste light contact to something messy and hungry. Cas pushing his fingers through Sam’s hair to hold him there while curling his tongue into Sam’s mouth, hot wet slide into him, teeth hard to lips.

—D—

They kissed like gentle innocent things for a few heartbeats and it twisted something in Dean, wanting that for himself, but more than any selfish needs he wanted to give Sam everything his boy needed. His baby brother. His Sammy.

Then Sam was pushing up on his knees and Cas was holding him, licking into his mouth dirty hot. Dean could hear it, twist of their tongues kissing open mouthed and sucking on each other. He shifted to push his panties down a little lower, stretched over his hips and the tops of his thighs, the slinky soft material snug against his balls with the waist band at the base of his cock. Licking his hand again to slide wet, he cupped his palm over the head and twisted while he watched them kissing.

He needed to slow down, drag it out, savor it. Cause fuck knows if he let himself do this too much with Sam he’d never want to stop. He tried to keep months and miles between them but he kept on bouncing back to Sam like a snapped rubber band.

"Sammy, get up and get your ass bent over the edge of the bed."

Sam rose to his feet, arms still bound behind his back, swaying a little but Cas was steadying him. Turning to the bed, he bent over it and the edge of the mattress was just up past his knees. Cas was moving to the head of the bed, grabbing the pillows there and scooting them under Sam’s chest so the angle wasn’t so severe. He had come off like such a stern, hardass kind of guy, but he kept shifting things to make Sam comfortable, touching him softly. He was good at listening to Dean’s instruction and applying it just right.

Sam was spreading his legs to lower himself a little, to show off, wiggling his butt.

"Yeah, that’s a good boy, give me a nice view."

Cas was standing next to him, running his hands over Sam’s back and his ass, his thighs. He had this intense way of looking at things, like he was so fucking focused. Dean looked up at the mirror on the ceiling, getting a better view of Sam’s arms behind his back, the skin red but he wasn’t turning purple. He could stay like that a little while more.

Cas looked at Dean, his hand stroking over Sam’s skin, lips poised like a question while he waited. He was a quiet guy. Spoke more with his body.

"All right sweetheart, I want you to give my boy a good spanking."

—C—

Dean had his panties pushed down his hips, erect cock thick as he wrapped a broad hand around it. Castiel wanted to do things to both of them, wanted to be pressed between them. But he knew he was here as an outsider, that he would leave tomorrow and go back to his cold orderly house and his quiet life, and that these two would go back to whatever they were. He didn’t mind taking what he could get, and it was almost odd, but the untouchable regard of Dean as watcher made him thrum with this tangible pull he had to resist.

He had Sam stretched out for him, for both of them. Sam was all eager energy as he moved around and positioned himself, rocking on the balls of his feet and pushing his ass up in the air. His skin was smooth, with a smattering of moles, muscles taut and firm, the curve of his backside begging to be touched. His arms were pulled behind his back, his hands rested clasped at the small of his back, fingers twitching. When he spread himself out, Castiel was tempted to drop to his knees between Sam’s legs, he was smooth from the base of his base of his scrotum back.

Stroking along the curves of his body, Sam sighed as Castiel spread his hands along warm skin, looking to Dean for instruction and nodding when he was given it. Sam would look even better with a bright red flush on his skin. He had pushed his chest down and curved his back up when he heard what Dean had said, waiting, silently encouraging it.

Castiel gave him a few light swats at first, just to test his reaction, whether he pushed back for it or pulled away, how squirmy he might be. Mapping out the meat of his backside with gentler spanks, Castiel eased into it. Escalating steadily, varying side to side, he hit hard in the middle where it was soft and gentler along the edges, slapping the sides of his hips and the backs of his thighs as well.

It echoed nicely in the room, sharp crack of skin to skin, little moans and gasps from Sam and the sound of Dean’s hand working his cock faster. Sam pinked up nicely, bright red handprints fading to an even spread as Castiel covered from the small of his back to the tops of his thighs. He pulled back and lay several hits in quick succession, then cracked down and kept his hand on Sam’s skin to massage the ache down into his muscle, squeezing tight and digging his fingers in. 

Back and forth, harder lighter, Castiel couldn’t deny enjoying the power trip of having someone so willing and enthusiastic beneath him, while it was comforting to have someone watching over them both. His erection bumped against Sam’s hip and he rutted into the crease of his body while spanking him.  

—S—

Sam wanted to watch Dean, liked to see him loose his composure, but he was told to bend over facing away from where his brother was sitting - masturbating - so he did. And he could still feel Dean watching him, feel it like a palpable thing, it made his toes curl to think about while he pushed up on his feet to meet Cas’ hand blow for blow. He didn’t have a lot of leverage, or balance, but he wanted to show Cas how much he wanted it, show Dean how good he was.

Cas was good, like experienced good, never lingering too long in one place and never falling into a rhythm too long that Sam could expect. Sam scrunched his face up and tried not to scream too loud when it did hurt, gasping against the pillows or the comforter when he slid forward. His ass was stinging and hot, so sensitive when Cas touched him with the flat of his hand and rubbed the heat down into his skin. God it felt wonderful. Sam wanted his hands everywhere.

It felt good like this, arms bound and bent over, not a care in the world and no need to think. Just stretches of blank static space. His cock was aching hard, slapping up against his belly when he jerked under Cas’ hand. He was so turned on, not just being spanked, but knowing his brother was watching, watching him get bent over by a stranger, worked over, ready to fuck this guy they just met in a dirty bar.

There was a snap by his head, a few feet away, and Sam opened his eyes to see Dean standing there. Cas had paused what he was doing, holding both his hands spread on Sam’s ass and kneading. Dean had a small plastic bottle in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. His panties were twisted and askew, cock bouncing free.

"Hey baby boy, I got a treat for you."

Dean swirled the bottle of whiskey.

"Gonna get you all clean, give you a little something extra."

Dean said it like a statement but he was standing there looking at Sam, so he nodded his head, cheek rubbing against the comforter, bit his lip and turned his puppy eyes up at Dean.

"My boy."

Dean turned and walked out of his line of sight.

"You keep up with that Cas, I’ll be back out in a sec."

Cas gave him a few light swats, mostly just running his hands over Sam’s skin, tugging a little at the edges of the belts where they were digging in to his arms, pin needle pricks down in his fingers just starting. There was the soft click of the bathroom door and water running. Cas was rubbing against him, hard and a little wet, murmuring something Sam couldn’t understand but his voice was a steady lull.

—D—

While Cas was spanking Sam, Dean kept his eyes on them as he fumbled next to his chair for the bag he put there. Pulling out a small single use enema bottle, he watched them for a while as Sam’s ass turned bright red and he was moaning and grunting, legs bending and trying to keep him up. Cas was goddam good at what he did, working Sam over. Dean took a few swigs from the whiskey bottle before standing. He didn’t even bother to try tucking his cock back in his panties.

Checking on Sam first - who still had enough cock-tease in him to turn the puppy eyes on Dean- he almost reached out to ruffle his brother’s hair, but turned to go to the bathroom instead. Opening the door with a click, he left it cracked to listen to Cas in the room while he turned the tap on. Pouring a few shots worth of whiskey in the bottle, he filled it the rest of the way with cold water. As cold as the tap would go.

Maybe it was a little cruel. It would make Sam squirm. Might make him beg. Dean screwed the nozzle top back on and padded into the room quietly. He pulled the thick black silicone plug out of the bag and set it on the table next to a bottle of lube. Squeezing a small dollop on his finger he spread it around the nozzle of the enema bottle.

"Cas."

Cas turned to him, hands hovering over Sam, his lips shining with spit and Dean couldn’t help watching his throat bob when he swallowed. Dean passed him the bottle,  getting a good look at Sam so close he swore he could feel the heat off his body.

"You ever give anyone an enema?"

Cas shook his head, but took the bottle, “No.”

"Don’t worry, it’s not messy, Sammy’s a good boy. Just put the nozzle in and squeeze nice and steady."

Cas nodded. Dean turned back to his chair and sat down, pressing his cock to his belly with his palm and shifting his hips to just rock it a little against his hand. Cas trailed his fingers down the cleft of Sam’s ass, circling his pad against the small furl of muscle, stroking down his taint and brushing knuckles against the crease of his balls. Sam tilted his hips back, spread his feet a little more, whimpered lowly.

The water in the bottle swirled light golden yellow with the whiskey, Cas slow and measured  when he pushed it in, watching it sink easy into Sam’s body.

—C—

Castiel could understand the appeal of light bondage and spanking. Honestly it was common enough he felt it wasn’t particularly kinky. He had been on the giving and the receiving end prior to this. But when Dean handed him the small bottle filled with whiskey and water, he wasn’t certain what it was for until Dean asked if he’d ever given anyone an enema. That, he had never done - or considered - before.

Sam did not protest, if anything he pushed his ass up higher. Like Dean said, nice and steady, he brushed his fingers down Sam’s soft skin, enjoying the way the young man twitched beneath him, so responsive. Inserting the nozzle, tipping up, he squeezed gently and the bottle emptied slow. It creased and crinkled, folding in on itself, till it was mostly empty and Castiel counted that finished when he couldn’t squeeze more out easily. Removing it, Sam’s pink little hole clenched and Castiel rubbed the pad of his thumb over it again.

He passed the empty bottle back to Dean, who passed him a slicked up plug. It was medium sized, not too thick, plain black with a circular knob for a base.

“That’s good sweetheart, perfect. You don’t need to prep Sammy for that, just go on.”

Castiel pressed the blunt head of the toy to Sam, pushing firmly. Sam sucked in a breath, the muscles in his backside clenching but he was staying so, so still, his body opening up readily and stretching to accommodate the toy. Castiel let it sink in slow, pushing till the ring of muscle tightened at the narrowed base, nudging it with his palm in small circles to stimulate his rim. Sam let out a whining stuttering moan, his hands clenching and arms pulling at the belts.  The tips of his fingers were a deep shade of red.

Castiel kept his fingers playing lightly at twisting the plug, turned to Dean and asked, “Should I leave the belts on much longer, his fingers are rather red.”

Dean nodded at him once, “Yeah go ahead and take those off.”

Moving around to the side of the bed, Castiel decided to climb on and take the belts off Sam’s arms from where he was already bent over. Sam grunted and tipped a little towards him when the bed dipped, turning his head to watch through the hair fallen over his eyes. Castiel made quick work of undoing the restraints, easing them off and setting them aside while Sam’s arms fell to his sides.

Lifting one of his arms, bright red gouges above the elbow and at the wrist, Castiel massaged against the marks and down his forearms, bringing the circulation back. Sam gasped and bit his lip, watching Castiel. The color soon faded, the marks still livid but his skin returning to tan everywhere else. Castiel rubbed down both his arms and soothed over his back, kneading where he was tense and slapping light against the bright flush he had from the spanking.

Sam rested a hand on his thigh, reaching his fingers up, smiling sweet dimpled at Castiel while he inched his hand higher.

—S—

Sam tried to stay still because he knew what was coming, he did, but when Cas brushed his fingers light enough it almost tickled down between his legs, he couldn’t help twitching a little. Cas was a weird kind of mystery, it kept him on his toes, kept him guessing.

Dean had put whiskey in the enema bottle, he’d show Sam. His gut was clenching in fluttering anticipation, breath coming shallow, when the smooth little tip of the bottle pushed in and he barely felt it. The water was cold. Shock to the system cold, cold enough he could really feel it slip slide into his body. Pressing his chest down to angle his ass up more, give it a better slope of gravity to follow, Cas squeezed the water in gently but it was cold enough to feel against the hot inside parts of his body, filling everything and seeping down towards his belly, stretching him and making him heavy, that weird sort of sensation of over fullness.

It wasn’t too cold for too long as the heat of his body leached into it. Then Cas was pressing a toy against him, and he took a breath to relax and loosen his muscles. It was perfect, filled and plugged, fuck, it was almost too much but he was stretched wide and his cock was twitching. If he just had a pillow a little closer down to his hips to hump he could get off just like that. Sam loved to come when he so full.

Cas was just putting a little pressure on the toy, tipping it around, driving him mad how it stimulated the sensitive ring of muscle. He could hear them talking about something but couldn’t make sense of it. Then a body was on the bed knocking him off balance, and it was Cas. Those nimble hands worked at the belts over his arms, and it hurt more to have them taken off with the sudden return of blood flow.

His arms flopped limp at his sides, stinging and throbbing, useless. Cas was picking one up, rubbing the blood flow back to normal down his arm, and the pain of it eased to over sensitivity. Cas was naked right next to him, taking care of him, cock hard between his legs and Sam wanted it back in his mouth. Course soon as he reached for what he wanted Cas was standing again. Sam may have pouted a little.

Getting his arms back under him, he could push up and twist around, but he didn’t want to, not like this. He didn’t know how long Dean wanted to keep him filled up, he needed to keep his torso angled down. He clenched the muscles of his ass around the toy, feeling it sitting still, wishing it were a cock to fuck back on because as good as it felt like this the stimulation was enough to tease him higher but no where near enough to be what he wanted.

Taking deep breaths, he ventured bold enough to slide a hand under his chest and down his stomach, down low on his abdomen, pressing at the shifting slosh stretch of water inside him.  

—D—

Dean watched the way Cas took care of Sam, setting the belts aside, rubbing down his arms, Sam still on his feet and spread in front of Dean. Sam’s cock kept bouncing between his legs, his balls pulled up tight, the plug trembling minutely as he clenched around it. Cas looked to Dean again, kneeling on the bed next to Sam.

They looked so good like that, Dean was worked up enough he could come with a few more jerks. Instead he clamped his hand around the base of his cock and stood, fetching Cas’ plain leather belt where he’d set it. Cas stood and came up to him, looking at him curiously with his eyes narrowed and his head tipped to the side just a bit. Dean couldn’t help it, if Sam was his puppy, this Cas was like a little bird he thought. God, he was a freak, maybe he should try out that furry stuff if he kept thinking of people like animals.

Sam was reaching down below his legs, and Dean knew he wasn’t really reaching for his cock - he was probably pressing against his belly - but still.

"Baby boy, you touching yourself without me telling you to?"

His hand whipped out from under him and smacked onto the mattress. Sam made sure to set both his hands where Dean could see them.

"I don’t know if you taught him his place well enough Cas, if he’s gonna be naughty like that."

Castiel glanced over to Sam and back to Dean, arching an eyebrow.

"I believe I did miss a few spots."

Dean passed him the belt.

"Harder in the middle, easy on the thighs, don’t go near his back. You can leave marks."

Cas nodded once, running his fingers over the smooth leather of his belt, doubling it over itself and he cracked it once, loud in the small motel room. It made Sam jump and twist his head around to look at them wide eyed, mouth open slack.

Dean sat back down, legs stretched out in front of him, hands gripped on the side of the chair to keep from touching himself while his cock strained up. Cas moved to one side of Sam, tipped his head, moved to the other side, and he had such a strange serious way of going about it. The first slap of the belt across Sam’s ass rocked him forward, crying out, and under the pain Dean could hear that warbling mixed up wanting in Sam’s voice.

—C—

Sam’s backside was still red from the spanking, but when Castiel spread his hands over the skin he didn’t feel the flush of heat anymore. Sam pushed back against him, braced on his hands on the bed and clutching at the sheets. Dean was watching them, cock out but his hands braced on the arm rests. Maybe he was waiting, wanting to come with them, and Castiel might have wondered how much longer Dean would drag it out, but he didn’t want to stop playing their game.

It certainly wasn’t difficult to ignore how hard and heavy his cock was between his legs when he had Sam to distract him. Cracking the belt a few times, just to get that sound, he held the leather in his fist and knew he’d never be able to wear this belt again without getting an erection.

Pulling his arm back halfway, he brought it down swift to smack against Sam’s ass and pull back quick. Giving a few medium hard hits one after another, Sam was already tender and worked up, but still begging for more with his breathy little gasps and deep throated cries. Castiel snapped the belt against the backs of his thighs a few times, and unfolded it to full length to crack on his ass and wrap around his hip a few times.

He tried to hit above or below the plug protruding from Sam, but he hit against it a few times, and Sam whimpered when he did. The belt marked him better than a hand could, a few welts swelling up across his backside, some of the deep reds blooming purple, striped bruises across his smooth skin.

"Stop."

Castiel paused immediately, arm poised above his head, and lowered it. The muscles in Sam’s legs were quivering finely, a sheen of perspiration shining on his back, his head pressed against the mattress. Castiel was breathing hard, more than aroused, fingers clutched tight around the belt and a twist of guilty pleasure in his belly.

"Sammy baby, what color are you?"

Dean’s voice was gruff, a hand back on his cock, his hair mussed up like he had been running his fingers through it. Castiel stepped back from Sam, rolling his shoulder.

Sam took a shuddering breath and replied, “Y-y-yellow.”

"You need to go to the bathroom?"

"Uh-uh-uh … soon."

"All right Sammy, you did so good, my sweet boy."

Castiel set the belt aside, stroking his hands down the hot skin of Sam’s backside that was bumpy with raised welts.

"Sweetheart, bring him down a little, nice work."

Castiel felt a smile curl in the corners of his lips, petting over Sam’s flank. “Thank you.”

—S—

Feeling like he was coming apart at the seams, reduced to a shivering twitchy mass of heat and pain and stretched taut longing, Sam lost track of how many times Cas belted him. His skin was burning hot, blooming with sharp pain feeling like barbed wire whipping under his skin when Cas hit him hard.

He didn’t know why he liked it so much. Not just the head trip being a toy for his brother and a stranger. Not just the sickly sweet sense of pride when Dean crooned what a good boy he was. Sam liked the pain. Liked feeling his body pushed and beat and used. He couldn’t help screaming a little but he was moaning too, his cock throbbing and the arousal coiled tight in his belly. 

It made him tremble and drool against the sheets, clutching on to them like he might float away. Higher, higher, body a mixed up slush of chemicals gearing him up, winding him like a toy and he’d go off teeth chattering as soon as he was released.

The air was cool against his skin when Cas stopped. Sam couldn’t stop shivering. His legs were cramping from staying in the same position, ass up and bent over, for so long. Dean’s voice cut through the haze and he managed to stutter out a yellow. He wanted to say green, but yeah, yeah. He was starting to feel not just outside his head but outside his body. Cas was touching him, comforting long strokes light over the hot aching stretches of his body.

Cas was pulling him up, an arm curled around his waist, pushing the sweaty hair off his forehead. Sam leaned into the contact, nuzzled against the crook of Cas’ neck, turning around his hold to push against him and he was too loopy to do much else. With a few deep breaths he was more steady on his feet but swaying a little. He was kind of drunk. Oh yeah.

"Sammy, you need help going to the bathroom?”

He shifted foot to foot, the plug moving around, and oh God he needed to go. He shook his head, moving to the bathroom with a slight stumble.

"No, De, I’m good."

Closing himself inside, he sat on the toilet before he removed the plug, taking care of himself and leaning over to clean the toy in the bathroom sink too. He made sure he was cleared out, his ass and thighs burning against the cold bathroom seat. Standing, he turned on the tub water too, just to make sure. He felt too empty now, without the toy or anything, stretched out muscles fluttering around nothing.

He was a lot more drunk than a few shots should make him but it absorbed faster into the blood stream that way so it wasn’t really surprising. It was kind of weird, getting drunk like that, because he wasn’t full in his stomach, there was no nausea or heartburn or anything else like that, just a swift sudden inebriation that left him fuzzy headed and loose limbed.

Climbing into the tub and kneeling, he splashed around and cleaned thoroughly, rinsing well and toweling himself off. Before he walked back out, he tried to turn around and see the marks Cas left, difficult in the small bathroom. He saw a bright swathe of red and a few streaks of purple, and for as sore as he was, Sam knew the marks would be there a while. He went back out with a smile on his face.

—D—

Dean pulled his panties up a little, holding his cock still against his belly because it wouldn’t stop twitching around. He grabbed the soft white rope from his duffel bag by the chair while Sam made his way into the bathroom. He looked a little drunk, weaving a bit, but he staid up right so he’d be fine. Dean listened closely to him moving around in the bathroom.

Cas was looking a little flustered, breathing heavy and switching his body weight from one foot to another.

"How you doing there darlin?"

Dean gave him a cocky smile, running the rope through his fingers, and Cas took a long breath, popping his shoulder and stepping closer to Dean.

"I’m, quite well.”

"That so? Good."

Dean reached out for him, setting an arm on his shoulder and he was so warm. Fuck, Dean just wanted to push him down in the bed and spread him open wide. He bet Cas liked it both ways, the way he just slotted in so right between Sam and Dean. Instead, Dean swallowed and watched Cas watching him.

"You ever do rope work?"

"Uh. A little. I don’t really know anything specific."

"All right. I’m going to show you a basic tie, I just want you to tie Sam’s arms together from the elbow to the wrist and tie him to the bed. Think you’ll like that?"

Castiel squinted at him and then down at the rope, reaching for it and running his fingers over the smooth material, brushing up against Dean’s hand.

"You don’t think his arms will be too sore?"

"Nah, they’ve had a rest. He can be a bit of a thrasher when you get him worked up."

Cas nodded. “Show me.”

Dean beamed at him. The sound of water in the tub started up in the bathroom. Sam was always so careful, neat and thoughtful.

Dean took one of Cas’ arms and pulled it out. He folded the rope on itself and held the ends together to find the mid point. Putting it over Cas’ arm, he passed the ends through the loop.

"Here, you just find the mid point and pass the ends through. Then you move it up a scoot, hold it in place and circle round, pass it under itself and move it up again."

Demonstrating along the length of one of Cas’ arms, it would be the same for tying Sam’s together just passing over the both of them at the same time. It wasn’t anything fancy. Cas was watching him with rapt attention.

"All right."

"Now, when you get to the wrist, make sure to pass it under itself a few times to secure it before tying it to the headboard. Don’t want it slipping up and shifting. Oh, and make sure the rope’s flat on his skin and not getting tangled up on itself."

"I understand."

"Good."

"Do you want me to tie him up right away?"

"You thinking about something?"

Cas pursed his lips, still looking down at his arm where the rope was coiled around it, before looking up at Dean.

"I would very much like to fellate your boyfriend."

"Hell yeah, I wanna see that. Tell you what, too, I can hear Sam in there getting squeaky clean, and let me say, the noises that boy makes when he gets rimmed - It’s awesome."

—C—

Castiel held his arm out for Dean to demonstrate. The rope was surprisingly soft, silky even as it slid over his skin. What Dean was showing him was simple, but it had a pleasing look to it, symmetrical neat passes laddering down Castiel’s arm. He’d experimented with some light bondage before, but nothing as intricate or protracted as what these two set up. It fascinated him.

Dean’s hands were rough calloused, clean but stained a little darker under his close trimmed nails. He was lightly freckled and broad, thick muscled, with a face too pretty for how rough he came across. There was a certain gentleness to him though, in the way he moved his hands and gave careful instruction.

When Sam came back in the room, he was pink and tousled from toweling off, his feet still wet leaving darker prints on the carpet when he shuffled over to them, looking at the rope that Castiel had unwound from his arm and looped neatly. Sam’s eyes were a little glazed, bruises down his hips where the belt had wrapped around, but he was smiling and looking between the two of them eager to continue.

Castiel stepped forward, caught his face in both hands, and kissed him again. Pulling him to the side so Dean could see both of them, the way they fit together, Sam just a few inches taller than him tipping down into the kiss, both of them hard and rocking against each other. Sliding a hand over Sam’s hip to palm his backside, fingers fitting over the lines of welts, he whimpered into the kiss and shuddered.

Castiel pulled back, Sam leaning into the space between them. “On the bed, hands and knees.”

Sam jumped at the brusque command, and clambered onto the mattress - hands and knees - with his face towards the headboard so Dean could see when he spread his legs. Castiel deposited the rope at he head of the bed and crawled onto it next to Sam. Dean was sitting back down in his chair, a pleased grin curling his lips as Castiel handled Sam, pulling the younger man around catty corner so Castiel could kneel in between his legs but Dean could still see some of it.

"That’s real nice sweetheart, gonna put on a show for me."

Castiel smoothed his hands over Sam’s sides and down his back, over the curve of his ass and around his hips, fingers light over the marks he’d left. Sam twitched and pushed back, spreading his legs wide and dropping his chest to the mattress with his head turned to Dean. His skin was mottled with ripening bruises, deep plum purples across the meat of his backside, raised red welts making stripes across him, soft pinks down his thighs. It was beautiful.

Castiel had never been overly much of a masochist, but he was certainly raised to be quiet and stoic about any suffering. Perhaps it was a twisted line of thought, but marks were a testament of endurance.

He wanted to give back to Sam for all he’d taken of the boy’s body. Smooth toned skin, spread open for Castiel, loose from the toy and clean. Dipping his head down, one hand on Sam’s hip the other braced on the bed, Castiel licked between his legs, along the creased stretch of skin and around the furl of his hole. The sour taste of whiskey lingered on his skin. Sam was lax and pliant, stretched muscles fluttering around Castiel’s tongue when it lapped and curled into his body.

—S—

Sam felt utterly relaxed, a pleasant buzzing settled under his skin. Still floating from the belting and a little intoxicated from the whiskey, he felt he could play all night. He would, if that’s what Dean wanted. Might be sore tomorrow, sore for a week, but it was so worth it for the bare lust in Dean’s eyes when he looked at Sam, when he couldn’t keep his tongue in his mouth - licking out against his plush lips like he saw something he wanted to devour.

Cas was there to devour him, pull him in and kiss him deep and press the hard line a cock against his hip. He wanted to know what the rope was for, he could take a guess but there were a lot of different answers. What he got was an order to get on the bed. Sam wasn’t sure what Cas wanted from him, but he was more than willing to comply. Bouncing a little on the hard mattress, ugly comforter scratchy on his damp skin, Sam looked over to watch Dean while Cas pulled him around and nudged his legs wider.

His skin was so sensitive and hot where Cas’ hands fluttered over it, like they didn’t want to hurt him but they wanted to catalogue his work. It was nice work. He ached and felt the sting of it echo writ across his body, and he thought Cas was going to hit him again, but there was something wet and hot trailing up between his legs and when he twisted a little more he saw Cas bending down behind and fuck.

Oh. He must have been a good boy for a treat like this, and he was going to let Cas know just how much he loved it. Whimpering when barely the tip of a tongue swirled around his hole, pushing back and digging his toes down against the mattress, Sam gasped when Cas pressed his tongue in past the relaxed muscles, lips sealing around him, breath hot against his skin. Sam whimpered and moaned with a stuttering ‘Cas, cas, please, Cas, please.’

Biting his lip and taking a deep breath, he watched Dean leaning over in his chair to get a better view, hand working on his cock with sharp quick jerks. Sam almost jumped out of his skin when a firm hand cupped his balls, and Cas sucked.

"Don’t get him worked up too much, he’s not allowed to come yet. Boy’s gotta earn it."

Sam whimpered and was about to start pleading when Cas pulled back a little, swiping the flat of his tongue along the outside and flicking over him. Then Cas was flipping him over, strong hands on his hips and for as dense built as the guy was he was powerful. Sam flopped on his back, legs spread like a whore and squirming under the feeling of being so exposed, so needy, something to be feasted on.

—D—

Dean pushed his panties down to mid thigh, spreading his legs as he sat slouched in the chair, one hand fondling his balls the other working his cock while he watched Cas going to town on Sam’s ass. He had pulled Sam around a little sideways and offered him up to Dean’s gaze, spreading the cheeks of his ass and appreciatively stroking down his body.

Leaning a little to the side in his chair, he could see Cas pressing his tongue to Sam’s skin, could see the wet slide of it up the soft spots and around the pucker of muscle, could see his lips closing around it and then he couldn’t see all the dirty little details but he could see Cas’ jaw working and his hand going down.

Sam was a wreck, bruised up and sweating and panting. He was babbling and begging and his wide near black eyes were fixed on Dean. Squeezing his cock and pressing his tongue against his teeth, wanting a taste, Dean watched Sam. His baby brother all spread out and shameless.

Dean could tell when he was getting close, knew the way Sam’s face twisted up like it felt too good it hurt, the way he started almost hiccuping with rapid breaths, the way he grimaced and clenched his jaw while his eyes rolled back. Oh, he wasn’t going to get it so easy.

What was not expected, was for Cas to just flip Sam over and keep on going strong somewhere else, just sucking down Sam’s cock halfway and pushing his legs up wide with palms to the meat of his thighs. Cas’ eyes were flicking open and shut, nostrils flared when he breathed through his nose and he was laying belly down with his feet folded up at the knee, just grinding down against the sheets and making a home for himself between Sam’s legs.

Sam had one arm reached up behind his head clutching at the edge of the mattress, the other went to Cas’ hair, dark brown hair all mussed up and spiking with sweat. Sam pushed his hands through Cas’ hair, gripping into it and pushing his hips up into Cas’ mouth. The poor dude didn’t stand a chance. Sam was still growing but his cock was already a freak show attraction all it’s own. Cas gagged a little, throat bobbing, and smacked down on Sam’s hip, pinning him to the bed.

Biting his lip and easing up Sam would probably of apologized if he could form a coherent word. As it was, Dean had no idea what he was trying to say. He loved it when Sammy got that worked up, started losing himself, all his up tight control. Cas pulled off his cock and slid his pink wet lips down the shaft, nosing at him and started sucking a ball in his mouth, one hand curling around Sam’s cock stroking it while he pulled his head back and released a ball with a pop, moving on to the next one.

Sam fisted both his hands in the sheets and his toes were curling. Dean could swear Cas was fucking smiling with his mouth full of balls and a monster cock in his hand. Dean was getting too worked up himself, cock so hard it was throbbing with his pulse.

"Stop."

—C—

Castiel had settled himself on his stomach, pushing his erection between his belly and the sheets, feet up and ankles crossed because two grown men sideways on the bed did not fit. Sam was spread out before him, his whole body heaving with shaking breaths from the tremble in his legs, the quiver of his belly, the pull of his chest, mouth wide and eyes wild. Castiel didn’t waste any time or consideration taking what he wanted, putting his mouth on Sam’s cock. It was quite an impressive cock, and Castiel knew he wasn’t going to make it all the way, but he kneaded his hands into Sam’s thighs and swirled his tongue around the head while he sucked.

One of Sam’s broad hands had found it’s way into his hair, holding him still when Sam thrust up and it was too much. Pushing him down and glaring at him, although Sam probably didn’t even notice, he worked at his own pace, jaw sore and clicking already. Pulling off, licking down the length of it, he paid attention to every part. Slowly stroking Sam’s spit slick cock with one hand, sucking a teste into his mouth, Castiel liked the taste of him, clean and neutral, pulling gently at the wrinkled skin rolling it on his tongue.

When Dean said to stop again, Castiel sat up. Sam was biting his lip and whimpering.

"Not yet baby boy, you gotta be patient. But I got you something to help with that."

Dean was pulling something out of his bag again, and Castiel vaguely wondered if he was a traveling porn store. There was something strappy and black in his hand which he gave to Castiel. Four long loops of leather and snaps with a rigid black spine connecting them.

"Oh."

"That’s right, Cas."

Sam had pushed up on an elbow, looking at them. “De, De, what’s that?”

"Cock ring, baby boy, don’t want you going off too early. Would be impolite to finish before our guest now wouldn’t it?"

Castiel turned it over in his hand a few times, the leather stiff, before unsnapping all the loops and kneeling between Sam’s thighs again. Pulling the contraption snug around the base of his cock and scrotum both first, fastening the snap so it was pulled tight, he fastened every rung up the length of Sam’s cock. Sam huffed and squirmed under him, his brow furrowed as he kept darting looks between Castiel and Dean.

Circling his hand lightly around Sam’s dressed up erection, Castiel slid his palm up the length of it, flesh hot and swelling engorged against the tight pull of leather, little bumpy ridges of silver snaps up the underside. Circling his thumb along the frenulum, the head pulsing a bead of pre come, deep shade of red, Castiel bent forward and licked from the crease of his sacs up to the slit.

—S—

Dean was being unnecessarily cruel. Sam had been good, he knew he was, and it didn’t matter if Cas made him come, he could get it up again. The last time they did this, a year ago, Dean had made the stranger get him off four times in one night. He had been so close, Cas’ hand around his cock tight and easy with the spit of sucking him off, that mouth hot and perfect on his balls. God he put his mouth everywhere and knew just the right mix of teeth, tongue and lips to drive Sam mad.

But he stopped right on the edge, pulling away, air cool on his wet skin and body jarring with the sudden loss of stimulation as it swerved away like it was juddering on the gravel shoulder of the road, missing it’s mark. And Dean, pulling toys out of his bag, he kept accumulating shit that Sam didn’t even know what it was or where he got it.

He was tense sprung and had to take a deep gulp of air to make his body unwind. He lay still, frowning at Dean the whole time Cas put that thing on him. Leather straps dug into the sensitive skin, pulled his balls up tight and cinched around them, silver studs of snaps cold on his dick as Cas tightened it all the way up. He wasn’t sure if he liked the feel of it yet or not, a weird kind of blockage like a solid wall where one shouldn’t be and when he pushed it hurt, cock twitching and filling too hard with the circulation cut off.

Then Cas was pushing him up the bed, pulling his arms above his head. He hadn’t even noticed Dean talking, the rough hum of his voice in the background, words jumbled up in Sam’s head. Piecing himself back together, he looked up at Cas and scooted his body to where Cas pulled him. Arms stretched up to the headboard, he could get with the program, hands moving to clasp the wood slat bars of the headboard. 

Cas looked at him, bright blue eyes and wild messy hair, dipped down and kissed his forehead, brushed a strand of sweaty hair off his brow. It almost took him out of his headspace, this weird sway Cas had between being rough and being tender, but really, Sam liked it. Dean was still talking.

“Sammy? Baby boy, come on, what color are you?”

“Green. Yeah, yeah, green, sorry. Fuck, I can’t. It hurts De.”

“Well that’s kind of the point.”

Sam nodded, offered his hands up when Cas started winding the rope around his forearms. It was the soft kind, smooth glide over heated skin, Cas pulling it around and through itself with precise careful detail, sliding his fingers underneath it to make sure it wasn’t tangled. Sam could be good for him, he would be. He could give Cas whatever Cas wanted, before asking for his own. 

—D—

"Tie him up to the bed sweetheart."

Cas did as he was told, as Dean had shown him, carefully twisting the rope around Sam’s forearms and pulling it tight. He circled the wrists a few times and secured around itself before tying the ends to the slats of the headboard. Sam was free floating, being moved around and giving tiny little whimpers when he jerked his hips. They were both sweaty and flushed and fucking wrecked already. It was a dirty kind of beauty, raw and real.

"You like that, huh, like having my boy all wrapped up and laid open for you?"

Cas’ gaze flicked up to Dean momentarily, narrowed at him, before looking back down at Sam, his arms tied up above him now and his head lolling to the side looking at Cas with pleading. Cas pushed the sweaty hair off his forehead and stroked his fingers along Sam’s jaw.

"Yes, I do. And I like you telling me what to do, Dean, what should I do next?"

"I want you to fuck him like you own him, and don’t let him come."

Cas nodded, pink of his tongue pushed out in the corner of his lips, crawling down the bed with one hand trailing over Sam’s wriggling body. Cas kneeled at the edge of the bed, facing Dean, and pulled one of Sam’s legs wide, exposing him. Curling a hand around his thigh, Cas watched Dean as he looked at Sam like he was an object, something to be taken, but he wasn’t something for Dean, wasn’t something Dean could touch.  

Keeping Sam spread legged and still facing Dean, Cas rolled a condom on his dick and slicked it with lube, circling Sam’s hole with his wet fingers, and it was like he was taking the both of them apart. Dean felt like Cas was trying to figure him out, like he could look straight through and see what a sick fuck Dean was.

He didn’t stay too long like that at least, stroked his cock a few times with lube before tearing his eyes off Dean and turning to climb over Sam’s leg and kneel between his thighs. Dean couldn’t see up the stretch of Sam’s body with Cas in the way, but it was still a nice view watching the flex of Cas’ muscles, the curve of his back and the strength of his arms when he lifted Sam’s legs up to bend and fold him, pushing in slow. Dean eased back in his chair, head tipped up so he could see Sam’s face in the ceiling mirror, his mouth open slack and his eyes rolling back as Cas pushed in.

Dean spit in his palm to slick it more as he circled his cock with a loose fist and fuck did he want to strip his dick, the low burning hum in his pit telling him ‘more, more’ had been driving him mad, but he wanted to stretch it out. Panting as he held himself back, masturbating slow and enjoying the show, Dean watched his brother getting fucked. 

Sam was moaning like the sweetest whore but it wasn’t fake, his hands clenching as they grasped at the headboard and he tried rocking his hips to make Cas go faster. Cas was taking his sweet time, pushed in with hips flushed and just grinding. Then he bent over and started sucking on Sam’s nipples.

The wail Sam made was fucking unholy. Under his stuttering pleas, Dean could hear the wet suck of Cas’ mouth at his chest, the squelch when he pulled out and started thrusting into Sam, the squeak of the old mattress. This right here, was going to be in his spank bank till the day he died.

—C—

Sam was absolutely pliant as Castiel moved him up on the bed and tied him to the headboard. His arms still had red marks from the belts, and Castiel doubted that Sam was aware how much he was whimpering as he was tied up and touched. Castiel couldn’t keep his hands off, the smooth shaved curve of his cheek, the heat flushed muscles of his chest that heaved, the taut quivering skin of his stomach. 

Dean was right. Castiel did very much enjoy having Sam so vulnerable, so available, for anything he wanted. He felt like it should be wrong, to enjoy something like this so much, but when Sam begged for it and when Dean told him what to do, it didn’t feel like anything so much as right where he should be.

Dean looked like he was drugged, eyes wide and savage as they consumed what Castiel did to his boy. Pulling his legs wide open and showing Dean just what he wanted, Castiel couldn’t help wondering what this accord between the two of them was. If Dean would take Sam the next day after Castiel had left and show him how much Sam belonged to Dean. If they’d kick Castiel out right afterwards and fuck in the messy sheets. If this was some sort of reaffirmation of their bond together, to stretch it around a stranger and see if it snapped. It was profoundly captivating.

He didn’t mind being used like a toy between the two of them. It was all he was looking for, because he knew he could never have what he wanted. So long as he was such a coward. That was fine. Tearing his gaze away from Dean, Castiel turned and settled himself between Sam’s legs. Long toned legs, the lines of his iliac furrow cutting down his hips the perfect lead to his gorgeous cock swelling almost purple against the stiff black leather wrapped around it. Castiel held him spread wide and pushed into his relaxed body, eyes fixated watching himself slip inside so easy, Sam panting and trying to push himself closer but he was tied and held and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Sliding in to the tight heat of his body, hips flush, Castiel took a shuddering breath and stroked down Sam’s thigh to spread his hands over the boys hips and keep him still. Bending forward, Castiel flicked his tongue against the peak of a nipple, Sam jerking beneath him. Sucking it into his mouth, rolling the bud between his teeth harshly, Castiel rocked his hips as he did what Dean had said - he owned him.

Hands braced on the bed beside Sam’s chest, Castiel’s back curled and stretched as he thrust into Sam, escalating the pace steady and even. Castiel kneeled closer, legs spread a little more and pulling Sam into his lap so Sam’s hips were tilted and his legs were wider, Castiel kept his mouth to Sam’s chest where he could feel his pulse and his breath. Pulling Sam’s hips up higher into his lap until the boy cried out and started writhing beneath him, Castiel held that position and fucked into his body mercilessly.

With Sam clenching around him like he was trying to pull Castiel in and keep him there, he wasn’t far from the edge himself. Castiel kept his hands off Sam’s cock, looking painfully engorged. Kneeling up straight, he held Sam’s hips and stopped.

"Dean, ah, I’m close, where do you want me to…."

"His mouth. His face. Mark him."

—S—

Cas’ hands were cool and steady on his shaking body, and he was only vaguely aware of everything, unable to focus on any one thing. Fuck him like you own him. God yes. Sam wanted to be somebody’s. Sam wanted to be Dean’s, but he knew he never would be. It wasn’t like he thought he was unique, Sam figured most people had that aching empty nothing in them that they wanted to fill with another person. He wasn’t sure if most other people wanted to be owned, though. It was addictive, it was easy - to be used, to be taken care of.

Cas didn’t give him what he wanted but he gave enough to string Sam along and keep that painfully tight sense of impending orgasm right at the crest, till he was vibrating with it. Sam tried to grind his body down against Cas, to get more, but Cas just held him steady and handled his body like he owned it. It was too much, how steady he went, when he put his mouth on Sam’s chest, when he tipped Sam’s hips up and found that sweet spot that had him crying wetly for release.

He was. He might be embarrassed if he had enough of himself left in him to care, but all he was reduced to was aching need. The backs of his thighs were sore and bruised where Cas held him and fucked into him, his cock throbbed and strained against the cock rings, his arms pulled against the rope and he couldn’t do anything but want with everything he was. Sam was crying and gasping and begging, and he didn’t care.

Mark him. When Cas pulled out he sobbed. So close, so fucking close, it hurt when he was tugged away from that edge again. Empty and hollow when Cas pulled out, his legs were weak and his muscles were trembling, still spread wide so Dean could see what a mess he was. 

Sam couldn’t stay still, pulling, twisting, trying to get any kind of friction. Cas was kneeling beside his head, peeling off the condom, and he could do this, if he could be a good boy Dean would let him come wouldn’t he, his brother couldn’t be so mean to keep this going much longer right.

Rolling his head to the side and opening his mouth, tongue lolling out along his lower lip, he strained towards Cas where he stroked himself several more times before coming. Sam opened wide and felt it hot against his lips, dripping in his mouth, splashed across his cheek. Hot and bitter, he swallowed and licked up where Cas held himself in the corner of Sam’s mouth, shaking through the last of it. He squeezed at the base of his dick and pulled up, dripping the last in Sam’s mouth while he curled his tongue against the head.

"Please, please, oh god, fuck De, it hurts, please let me, please, I can’t."

"Shhshh, baby boy, you did so good."

Cas was wiping a tear track with the pad of his thumb, bending over Sam and licking a stripe of his own come off Sam’s face, kissing against his dirty lips and licking himself out of Sam’s mouth. He only moved away when Dean said, calling him back down the bed. 

Sam craned his head up to watch Dean taking something out of his bag. Long and slender, purple plastic, with a bulbous head. Sam wiggled down on the bed although he couldn’t really go anywhere, folded his legs up till the backs of his heels touched his thighs with his feet flat on the bed, wide open and desperate.

—D—

Sam was honest to God crying; Dean saw in the mirror the way his face was bright red and twisted up, eyes screwed shut squeezing out tears and he was begging for it but he still held his mouth open and looked up at Cas, swallowing everything. His hole kept clenching and his cock looked painfully swollen. Cas was panting and holding a hand flat against the wall, wiping Sam’s face off and dipping down to kiss him.

"Cas, gonna give Sammy what he needs now, been such a good boy hasn’t he, he give you what you wanted sweetheart?"

"Such a good boy."

Cas crawled down the bed, and even when he wasn’t fucking Sam senseless, the way he moved was fluid.

"How do you want me to do it?"

Dean had to pull his eyes away, digging in the duffel still next to his chair for the toy he’d already picked out. It wouldn’t fill Sam, but it would target right on his prostate, curved up for it, and it had a remote control that Dean could work. He passed it to Cas, who still had the bottle of lube on the bed.

"Here, put this in first, and when I tell you, take his cock ring off."

Cas nodded, spreading lube on the toy. He sat on the bed hip to hip with Sam and facing towards Dean, with one of Sam’s legs pulled up over his lap so he could bend forward and reached between Sam’s legs, giving Dean the view. He watched Cas push the toy in to the base with ease, angling it up into Sam’s body. Dean turned the remote on to a low setting and Sam jerked, would have twisted away but Cas held him by the leg and then leaned against his hip too.

Sam was mumbling, his chest heaving as he breathed ragged, and Dean couldn’t even make out the insensate string of words, but he didn’t really need to.

"Look at you Sammy, so fucking needy, go on Cas, take it off."

Cas nudged the toy in a little farther when it slipped, then moved to hold Sam’s cock with one hand while the other eased at the leather straps to pop the snaps on it. He had nice hands, long fingers that moved nimbly, starting at the top and working down one ring at a time. Sam’s cock was obscenely swollen, vivid red and drooling come when Dean upped the power to his toy. 

When Cas popped the last snaps and pulled the entire thing off, Dean pushed the toy up to full vibration and Sam screamed, arching off the bed as he came hard enough it shot all the way up to his chin. Cas tried holding him down, keeping the toy in while Dean had the remote in a death grip in one hand and was stripping his cock fast and hard with the other. Sam came, and came, screaming himself hoarse and pulling at his ropes.

It didn’t take long for Dean to catch up, toes curling against the rough carpet and his muscles tensed, panties still pulled across his thighs digging in, cock pulsing and he twisted his palm around the head while he came messy on his stomach with a groan watching Sam still seizing on the bed.

—C—

Castiel had done as Dean instructed, coming in Sam’s mouth, across his cheek. He couldn’t help bending forward to lick at Sam’s soft lips, slick with spit and come. Sam was breathing erratically and jerking at his restraints. But Dean told him it was almost over, beckoned him down to the edge of the bed.

Holding Sam down, Castiel slid the toy into his body, then eased off the leather straps from his cock. Nudging the toy deep, he could feel it vibrating, and he was intending to wrap his hand around Sam’s cock but when the vibrations intensified, Sam was jerking violently underneath him and coming hard. Castiel flicked his gaze between the two of them, Sam bowing off the bed and striping his chest and belly white, Dean stroking himself through his orgasm so his come flecked all over him.

They were all messy, sweaty and panting. When Sam collapsed on the bed, his cock still twitching, Castiel tapped the toy a few times, his cock dribbling on his stomach while Sam groaned, before drawing it out slowly. Dean turned the remote down to off and set it on the table, standing and tugging his panties up enough to tuck himself back in before reaching to take the toy from Castiel.

"Get him untied."

Castiel scooted up the bed to work at the ropes, tightened from Sam pulling at them. Sam was completely loose, eyes darting around disoriented, mumbling.

"You were so good for me Sam."

His lips curled up in a smile. Castiel finished with the rope and pulled his arms down, massaging at them again. The sink was running in the bathroom, and soon Dean emerged with a wet wash cloth and two plastic cups of water. He padded over to Castiel’s side of the bed, handing him the wash cloth and setting the water down.

"Here. That was awesome Cas, you took good care of my boy. Sammy, you doing all right baby boy?”

Sam’s smile widened enough his dimples were deep in his cheeks. “M’good De. Real good. G’na sleep.”

"Drink your water first."

“’kay.”

Castiel wiped down his chest and stomach, then moved to sit behind him, propping Sam up on his chest and holding the water to his lips. Sam yawned, and shifted around, eventually stilling enough to drink his water. There were stark ligature marks down his arms that held the imprint of knots perfectly. Dean was moving around, cleaning things up, folding the rope back up, packing it all away in his canvas duffel bag.

Pushing his fingers through Sam’s messy hair, Castiel kissed the top of his head, the shell of his ear, and Sam sighed as he relaxed into the contact, a warm heavy weight in Castiel’s lap. This was what he treasured the most, this quiet ease and bone deep satiation.

—S—

Sam wanted some kind of stimulation, anything, he was painfully worked up and getting delirious. The small toy Cas slipped in him didn’t do much, it was too slim and he was ready to break the headboard apart but then it started vibrating lowly and his whole body snapped taut. When he felt Cas’ hand on his dick taking off the leather thing - finally - he didn’t think he could hold back once it was gone. Then Cas was nudging the toy up at just the right angle as the vibrations ratcheted high and Sam came so hard it hurt in the best way he didn’t even know existed.

All the too tight coil of tension in his belly that had been swelling until he felt he was going to crawl out of his own skin if he couldn’t release it soon, snapped and wracked through him. He couldn’t help thrashing, his arms still tied up straining against the ropes while his hips shot up and he couldn’t keep track of anything around him because everything was this hot rush of intense euphoria that was overwhelming, consuming.

Sam blacked out. Just for a pause, he thought, gasping for air when he blinked his eyes open again. Cas was already rubbing down his arms, wiping his stomach with something cool and wet that he squirmed away from. He couldn’t get away from the older man pulling him into a warm cocooning lap. He didn’t want to. Sam flopped back in Cas’ lap, absolutely ready to pass the fuck out, but they were making him drink a little water and Sam was pretty sure that was a good thing.

God he’d never had an orgasm like that before in his life. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to do that again. He did, and he didn’t. It was kind of hard to think at the moment. Sam felt hollowed out, liked he’d been split open, scraped raw, and pieced back together. His whole body was still humming, his throat was raw, but he felt absolutely and utterly sated.

It was bed time, that’s all there was to it. He didn’t care if he was messy, or if the sheets were dirty. Turning in Cas’ lap to wrap long arms around him, Sam nuzzled against that toned stomach and nipped at the crease of his belly button.

"Cuddles."

Cas was playing with his hair and it felt awesome. Cas seemed to know what he needed. Somehow, Cas managed to get them underneath the blankets while Sam was still wrapped around him. Although, he’d been moved to the side a little, curled up along Cas’ side. Dean was still picking up the room. In his panties. He had a nice ass. Sam reached out for him, forgetting - purposefully - that he wasn’t supposed to ask for this.

"De, De."

Cas said something, Dean said something. It didn’t matter because his brother was laying down next to Cas, looking at him, reaching over to tuck a bit of hair off Sam’s forehead, and he was able to catch Dean’s hand. He fell asleep with his head pressed to Cas’ shoulder and Dean’s hand in his.

—D—

Dean cleaned the toys, including the plug Sam left in the sink. He threw away used supplies that were single serve only. He packed up their duffle and lingered trying to find things to do with his hands because he wasn’t certain what he should do now. If they should kick Cas out or not. He seemed like a really nice guy, actually. He was currently getting Sam to drink a little water, playing with his stupid long hair that was getting too scruffy.

Sam kept mumbling, between sips, as he sank lower in Cas’ lap and curled up around him like an overgrown puppy. Cas was just smiling in a small sort of way, blinking sleepily at Dean. Well, he was staying. There were two queen size beds in the room, and Dean should get in his own, should pull the blankets up and listen to Sam and Cas sleep until he fell under himself. Should do anything but stand next to them watching them get settled under the blankets.

Sammy asked for something that sounded suspiciously like ‘cuddles’ and ‘De’. Cas had him tucked against his side and scooted as far over as they could to leave just enough of a sliver of room on the bed for one more body. Cas reached his arm out too, across the pillow, an open invitation while he ran his hand over Sam’s side.

"Dean, are you ready for bed yet?"

He said it like it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I uh, not sure there’s enough room."

"Of course there is."

Cas scooted sideways again, Sam huffing against him still holding a hand out for Dean. He pushed his panties down, turned off the light, and knelt on the bed next to the two of them. The windows weren’t quite closed all the way, neon blue signs and white street lights coming through the slatted blinds. Cas curled an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in. Dean could see Sam’s eyes blinking across from him. He couldn’t help himself from reaching over to push the hair off Sam’s face. Least he got a set of dimples and a flash of white for it before Sam was tugging his hand down.

It felt so right, laying on a stranger’s chest across from his brother and holding their hands on his stomach. Cas hummed and Dean could feel it vibrating. He was warm, and he smelled good. It was comfortable. Safe. Dean felt he shouldn’t think that. But as he was lulled into sleep by the sound of Cas’ heartbeat, he realized he hadn’t felt this safe, this wanted, this worthy of it, in a long time.

—C—

Castiel had gotten Sam to drink most of his water, which was good, after so much exertion he should definitely hydrate. Which went for Castiel too, and Dean had set a glass on the table for him as well so he took it. It tasted like hard mineral water and rusty pipes, but he drank it. 

Sam kept shifting, wrapping him up in over eager affection, and it made something swell in his chest that wanted this. Lowering onto the bed until he was laying down with Sam somehow tucking his massive body next to Castiel - probably hanging his feet off the end of the bed - Castiel watched Dean awkwardly shuffling next to the bed.

Perhaps he had overstayed his welcome. It didn’t seem like that were the case with Sam, but Dean, he looked a little lost. Suddenly, Castiel wondered if Dean were lost in how it was he would fit near Sam, not near Castiel. They were such a curious pair. Sam was waving him down, so Castiel did as well, stretching his arm out and pulling the sheets back.

It took a moment of deliberation, but then Dean was taking off his panties and turning out the light. The bed groaned under the weight of three grown men, and it was a tight fit, but Castiel was more than content in the middle of them. He kissed the top of Dean’s head as he tucked him under an arm. Dean reached out for Sam, and Sam for him. They clasped their hands together and rested them on Castiel’s stomach. Their heads were heavy on his chest, breath ghosting across his skin, but he felt so full of warmth he didn’t mind.

It was strange, that they kept him still as a buffer between them. No good night kiss, no touch more intimate than their fingers linked together. Like Castiel was somehow a facilitator for their interaction. He had thought of himself until then as merely a sort of prop, or a toy. But they didn’t treat him like that in the end, and the way they remained physically distant from one another had Castiel doubting his assumptions.

That was a question for later, if ever, though. Because he still held no doubt that he would go back home in the morning, that he would resume his quiet lonely life. One thing Castiel was certain of though, is that he would strive to change that. To stand up to his family, and let them know who he really was, whether they would accept him or not. He couldn’t go back without the hope that whatever small glimmer of how beautiful a profound bond between two people who loved each other could be - he couldn’t not hope for that for himself. 

-


	3. The morning after

-

—S—

Sam woke up warm, sore, and curled next to another body. His neck was stiff from laying his head against someone else’s chest. Castiel. Cas. A strong arm was still wrapped around his shoulders, hand flopped loosely over the curve of his arm as fingers twitched. Sam’s head was moving up and down gently with Cas’ breath, the man snoring lightly. Sam’s hand was still splayed out on Cas’ toned stomach, and there were thick rough fingers brushing against his.

Smiling softly to himself as he yawned, Sam realized he wasn’t so much smiling to himself as he was smiling across Cas’ chest to his brother. Dean was blinking, lips curled up, eyes looking bleary and still distant from sleep. The curtains weren’t closed all the way, and the shaft of sunlight that striped over the bed illuminated his hair softly golden from behind. The ugly sheets were rumpled down on  Dean’s waist - he always slept hot - the sun slanting over broad muscled and freckle smattered shoulders.

His brother was gorgeous. Sam knew he shouldn’t think that about a guy - that they were pretty - much less his brother. But he couldn’t help the way his smile widened to see Dean across from him, fingers wrapping around his own tighter now.

Sam was sore from last night and from sleeping in a queen bed with two other full grown men. His feet were dangling off the edge. The sheets were pulled up tight around his chest. He had a raging case of morning wood, pressing a little closer to Cas’ body so he could hold his cock against the warm skin of the man’s hip. When he looked down, the sheets were moving with the twitch of Cas’ own erection.

Good morning indeed. Sam stretched his hand across Cas’ body, resting against Dean’s hip. Dean jerked a little, a crease marring his brow, frowning at Sam. Sam just wanted to feel if his brother woke up in the same state. Wanted to know if he was hard too, sleeping here with Sam and a stranger under a ceiling mirror. Dean pushed his hand away, but without much force, and he didn’t get up like Sam might have expected.

Instead, Dean pushed Sam’s hand down, past the thick thatch of curls to the smooth hot skin of Cas’ dick. Dean didn’t take his hand away though, he curled his fingers tighter around Sam’s, around Cas’ dick. Sam’s eyes flicked from Dean up, shifting to look at Cas’ face, and he was still slack jawed with a light snore and his eyes closed, sleeping. Sam closed his fist around Cas’ erection, Dean closing his over Sam’s, as they stroked up the length and squeezed.

Dean was smirking at him, in that challenging sort of way of his that said ‘show me what you got’. He enjoyed the feel of his brother’s broad palm pulling at the soft skin shifting over the hardness with him. After a slow, easy minute, Sam wiggled himself lower on the bed trying not to wake Cas up. Easing from the circle of his arm, disappearing under the blankets, Sam scooted down and curled on his knees with one arm braced on the mattress between Cas’ barely spread legs and the other next to his hip.

Sam couldn’t really see much under the sheets, and it was immediately hot and stifling, but he kissed down the line of Cas’ hip until he felt Dean’s hand still on the man’s erection. Dean held it still, hand at the base, and Sam licked around where Dean’s fingers were before closing his lips around the head and sinking his mouth down onto it.

—D—

Cas was snoring when Dean woke up. It wasn’t what woke him up, but it was the first thing he noticed. Dean didn’t usually wake up early, and he was usually a grumpy asshole in the morning. Yeah, he knew it, he just didn’t care. He didn’t sleep much, usually four to six hours a night, and they were never good hours. He had nightmares a lot, stupid shit, things he tried so hard to ignore during the day they came back to bite him in the ass at night.

He slept good last night, really good. And for …. seven hours, he realized when he looked at the little red lines on the alarm clock next to their bed. It was ten in the morning already. His muscles felt stiff from sleeping so much, and probably in the same position all night seeing as he was still cuddled up on Cas’ firm chest with his brother across from him. Sam’s hair was a mess.

Dean couldn’t help the swell of affection that made his chest feel too tight, too small, the way his brother smiled at him in the hazy yellow light of morning. When he was watching the lines of his brother’s body through his clothes shifting in the passenger seat of the Impala, it was a road trip.  When he was watching his brother’s ass bent over a pool table in a low lit bar, they were just conning some schmuck. When he was watching his brother’s mouth get fucked by a stranger they’d picked up, he was just being a pervert. But this. Holding Sam’s hand under the blankets when he was fuzzy from sleep and satisfied from last night, feeling that protective surge and big brother care, wanting nothing more than to roll over Cas and pin Sam to the bed. Dean wasn’t sure what this was.

Sam tried to touch him, and he couldn’t do that. They could touch Cas together, distract themselves with this stranger that had bright eyes and a deep voice, who was so good at doing exactly what Dean said and giving Sam exactly what he needed. That was a safe territory, right. Cas was hard, and thick, and Dean loved that his hot cock head was already beading pre come.

The bed creaked when Sam started to squirm down under the sheets. Dean watched amused as Cas’ arm tried to fold around something that wasn’t there and ended up flopping across his chest almost smacking Dean in the face. Rolling his head back along the hard bicep under it, Dean watched Cas’ face, his had still wrapped on the man’s cock as Sam started licking at it.

When Dean felt Sam’s lips around Cas’ cock pushing down against his fingers, he saw Cas’ face scrunch and twist but he still wasn’t opening his eyes. Was this dude seriously going to sleep through a morning blow job. Cas huffed, his eyeballs moving beneath the lids rapidly, and his arm under Dean’s head started to twitch. After a few times of Sam’s head bobbing almost comically under the sheets, Cas’ eyes fluttered open and he yawned, shifted, groaned, yawned again and flailed around like he wasn’t sure what was going on.

Dean pressed a kiss to his cheek, rougher with stubble. Moving his hand from the base of Cas’ cock to twist his fingers through soft rumpled hair and grip the hard jut of his hip bone, Dean nipped at his ear. “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

—C—

Castiel was disoriented as he woke up. It was very infrequent that he woke next to someone else, and never next to two someone else’s. The bed was warm and dipped in the middle, the sheets a little scratchy, but the bodies next to him were soft. Well, one was next to him. And he must be having a very vivid lucid dream. The lines between impractical dream realities and conscious waking weren’t entirely solid all the time.

Blinking, he realized how awake he was when the man next to him bit at his ear, rumbling a good morning. Dean. And Sam was, was, moving beneath the sheets sucking Castiel off. How long had he been down there… Castiel lifted the sheets up and looked down at the young man with his pretty lips wrapped around Castiel’s cock. Oh, it was a good morning indeed. There was a ‘good morning’ somewhere on his tongue but when he opened his lips a garbled moan came out.

Flinging the sheets aside, shuddering at the cooler air of the motel room, Castiel tilted his head to the side to press a kiss to Dean’s brow. He wasn’t certain on what to do in the situation of waking up to receiving fellatio, so he let his free hand drift down to push Sam’s hair out of his eyes, pretty hazel eyes dilated and mischievous as they looked up Castiel’s body at him. Castiel still had his other arm around Dean, curling over his shoulders as Castiel stroked down the thick muscle of his arms.

He was still somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, not quite coherent, moving lazily as he rolled his hips up off the bed. Sam pulled up when he did, and Castiel might swear the young man was smirking around his cock, flicking his tongue over it and sinking back down once Castiel had stilled. It was absolutely blissful to wake up to a warm, wet mouth around his cock, and he couldn’t bring himself to care what time it was.

Castiel blinked up at the mirror on the ceiling. They were a thoroughly debauched trio. Where the blankets rode down the swell of Sam’s backside, there were vivid purple and red marks on his skin. Dean was hard and rutting against his hip, kicking the blankets lower, the shift and pull of muscle under his tan freckled skin mesmerizing. And Castiel, his face was flushed and he was pressed between these two men in a wanton display of indulgence.

Pulling his arm out from underneath Dean’s head, he slid it down between their bodies to grasp Dean’s cock, the angle awkward but Dean was more than content to thrust into the tight curl of his hand. Castiel groaned, sifting his fingers through Sam’s soft hair, toes curling at the insistently building pleasure.

—S—

Sam sighed through his nose contentedly as he slid his tongue along the underside of Cas’ dick, pushing his tongue out past his lips and sucking languidly. He held his head still, massaging with his tongue, while Cas’ fingers started to comb through his hair scratching lightly. Humming in approval he started to move again, little fluid shifts of his head back and forth. There was a faint lingering taste of latex from the condom last night, but it was licked away soon enough, Sam going sloppy and salivating until spit dripped down Cas’ length.

Blinking eyes still sensitive to the sliver of morning sun illuminating the room, Sam looked up to see both Dean and Cas watching him. Cas’ hand was wrapped around Dean’s cock next to his hip, and Sam was so so close if he shifted up a little maybe he could get his lips on it. Sam was still on the other side of Cas’ lap, draped over him. Bringing his knees to tuck up under him, Sam reached down his belly to grasp his own cock, stroking with long firm pulls as he took a deep breath through his nose and angled his head to take Cas into his throat.

He heard a low rumbling groan from Dean, Cas gasping, and there was a second hand in his hair. Thick fingers, gentle grip, it was Dean’s. Cas’ second hand was still wrapped around his brother - it was Dean pushing the hair off Sam’s face and touching him while he went down on a stranger.

It wasn’t the way Dean’s blunt nails dragged against his scalp or how light that broad palm was cupping the back of his neck that made Sam suddenly focused on it. It was just his brother. It was always his brother that could make his attention snap taut to zone in on green eyes and pink lips, the hitch of his breath, the rhythm of his stomach clenching as he fucked into Cas’ hold.

Sam started jerking himself off faster, ass pushed up in the air, sucking down Cas with a loud squelch of excess spit and a messy unconcerned mouth. Cas was rolling his hips but he didn’t push up into Sam’s mouth, let him take what he wanted and set the pace. His fingers were digging in to Sam’s shoulder, palm hot sliding down the slope of his arm and back up again, muttering incoherently. Everyone started moving faster with him.

Still so loose and aching from last night, Sam didn’t take long wringing an orgasm out, flushed itch under his skin more intent on getting off than drawing it out. Spilling over his fist on the rumpled sheets, he shuddered through a mildly satisfying orgasm so he could turn his full attention to his brother and their third. Hand stroking over his skin and through his hair, the two of them turning to press lips to each other then back to watching Sam.

—D—

It shouldn’t make him proud to watch his baby brother sucking cock, but goddam, Sammy was good at it. His thin lips stretched around Cas’ dick, drooling sloppy and sucking noisily as he twisted his head a little. Dean could see Sam’s arm working, jerking himself off, the slope of his back arching up and his perky little ass was striped red and purple. Dean could see the outlines of Cas’ belt, the skin mottled and looking so tender he wanted to soothe it with his hands, his tongue.

Instead he just thought about it, and pumped his hips up into Cas’ tight fist.  He didn’t realize when he started to do it that he was reaching his hand out for Sam’s head. Maybe he was still hazy from sleep, that was a good excuse. From the view he had right next to Cas’ head down his trim body watching that cock disappear into Sam’s mouth, at the same time he was rutting into Cas’ hold, it was kind of a weird simulation of getting his own cock sucked by Sam. That was probably just desperation, but God was it a vivid fantasy.

So his hand was in Sam’s hair, soft and a little greasy from so much sweat but it still felt perfect in Dean’s fingers. Cas was tensing up next to him, breath coming ragged as he grasped at Sam’s arm with pleading on his lips. Dean turned to him, nudged at his stubbled jaw and sucked the breath out of his lips, trailed his tongue along Cas’ ear and smelled his hair. Dean still couldn’t get away from the mental image of Sam going down on him instead.

When he looked back, Sam’s nose pressed to the curly hair at the base of Cas’ dick, eyes half shut and nostrils flared with spit tracked down his chin, Dean came with a stutter of his hips and his fingers closing tight in Sam’s hair. Cas stroked him through it, nimble fingers curling around his cock and squeezing from the base to the head till he didn’t have anything left in him. Spent milky white across Cas’ tan stomach and his hips, Dean took a groaning breath when he saw Sam pulling up, Cas’ dick shiny with spit and a little white dripping down.

Sam lapped at the head, pressed a kiss to it, and pushed himself a little further over Cas’ body to stretch his pink tongue out and lick at the come from Dean that was spattered across smooth skin. Dean pushed a strand of hair behind the shell of Sam’s ear, but it fell right back across his face as soon as Dean’s fingers moved to cup his cheek.

"Baby boy."

Sam sighed, leaning his weight into Dean’s hand, smiling sweetly with come on his lips.

—C—

Castiel was pliant and drowsy, a hand wandering the contours of the side of Sam that was closest to him while the other erratically squeezed around Dean’s cock. But Dean was doing most of the work for him, as was Sam, and he let his mind float away, body subsumed to the easy pleasure of it. He drifted back when Dean started nuzzling against his jaw again, kissing closed mouth to keep away the morning breath, bodies pressed close.

Dean released hot across his hip and stomach, face scrunched up with his plush lips rounded and freckles standing out against flushed cheeks. Castiel continued to amuse himself with the heft of Dean’s cock still twitching while he felt his body tensing and humming, cock down Sam’s throat and he didn’t even think to pull the young man away when he came. It was a sweet slow release of pressure, much gentler than last night in the fervency of the role he had played.

Castiel panted as he relaxed back into the bed, legs stretched out and hands still idly petting over any parts of the other men that they happened to reach. He observed Sam and Dean as they touched across his body, there was knowing in their eyes of a privacy he would never understand. He tried very hard not to laugh when Sam started cleaning the semen off his stomach, because he was quite sensitive and ticklish there. It seemed something the both of them enjoyed and he wouldn’t interrupt with school boy giggling.

There was a tenderness to the lilt of Dean’s voice when he called Sam his boy, baby boy, and Castiel felt he were intruding on something in that moment. He was however, still trapped beneath them. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, he groaned at the late hour. Really, he should have set an alarm last night even though his flight was later in the day.

Loathe to leave the warmth and comfort of the bed - of his bedmates - Castiel began to disentangle himself.

"I have to be at the airport in an hour and a half. Do you mind if I shower here?"

Dean sat up, pulling away from Sam and blinking at Castiel like he was thinking about that for a moment. Castiel felt it was not so much him considering whether he wanted Castiel to use the facilities, rather it was a sleepy post orgasm mind trying to parse the words.

Yawning, Dean stood and stretched. “Yeah, sure. D’you mind if I join you?”

Castiel sat up , pulling his feet out of the tangled sheets, and half crawled out of bed, absent mindedly giving Sam a kiss on the forehead as the young man stretched up the length of the bed and rolled away from the wet spot he made to where Dean and Cas vacated the bed.

"I doubt I could get another erection so quickly. You two have worn me out."

Dean snickered, “Shower time fun is for more than jacking off Cas, besides, I doubt the hot water will last for more than one shower in this joint.”

Nodding in understanding, Castiel shuffled to the small bathroom. “Ah, I see. We ought to share for the sake of efficiency then.”

—S—

Flopping on to the bed - and he was definitely not pouting - when Dean and Cas got out, Sam was feeling tired again and ready for a nap. It wasn’t like all three of them were going to fit in that motel shower. No way. Not happening. He crawled over the spot where he’d jizzed on the bed, into the still warm imprints of Dean and Cas’ bodies, pulling the sheets up around him.

"M’going back to sleep."

He blinked and watched Dean stretching his buck naked body up with his hands raised towards the ceiling. Sam wanted to press his tongue to the dimples on either side of Dean’s spine over the curve of his ass, wanted to drag his fingers over the patches of freckles and see if he could still find the faded scars on his brother’s body from a rough life. He wanted so much, and he used to push for it, hell he used to kind of be a brat for it, would goad and try to guilt Dean. He didn’t want to push his brother away when he realized Dean would only ever give him just enough to stave off hunger pangs.

Dean provided for him in every other way, when their father was in hiding or on a long job. Gave him at least the bare minimum of material needs, but always gave him more than enough affection and support in Dean’s own way. Sam couldn’t ask for more, for the one thing Dean couldn’t give. He was happy enough with what they had.

Pulling the sheets tight around himself in a cocoon, Sam tucked his arms over his chest and smashed his face in to the pillow.

"S’too bright, close the curtains more, De?"

Dean turned a smile on him and stepped up to the window.

"What, these curtains."

"Duh."

Sam grumbled and rolled over when Dean flung them even wider.

"Ass."

He heard his cruel, cruel brother chuckling when the curtains squeaked on their rod being pulled closed enough that the crack between them was as small as it could be and the room was marginally dimmer.

"Thanks."

"Sure princess. Go ahead and get your beauty sleep."

"Ass."

He heard the toilet flush and the door squeak on it’s hinges, the hushed murmur of Dean and Cas’ voices in the bathroom. Sam liked Cas, he was an interesting person, a nice guy, and it was kind of unfortunate that he would be flying off to the other end of the country never to be seen again.

Sam tried not to think about it. About his time with Cas already over, and his time with Dean running out before his brother would disappear for another indeterminate amount of time again. Instead, he buried himself in blankets, and the smell of them mingled on the pillows and sheets, slipping back into sleep easily.

—D—

Dean may have lingered, just a moment, watching Sam burrow down into the sheets like some kind of sleep gopher until only his nose upward was visible. The kid splayed out and took up the whole bed if there was anyone else in it, or curled into a tight ball when he was alone. Weirdo.

When he heard Cas flush the toilet in the bathroom, Dean pushed the door open and stood next to him at the sink. Reaching for a small leather pouch perched on the sink, he pulled out his toothbrush and tooth paste while Cas washed his hands. Dean didn’t have an extra toothbrush to offer, and he wasn’t sure where Sam had left his, but that was all right, they could share. He never did get why people were so picky about never sharing toothbrushes if they kissed. You’d already swapped spit.

Squeezing out a little tooth paste and running his brush under the tap, Dean passed the tube to Cas. “Here.”

Cas took it with a ‘thank you’ and then just tipped his head back and squeezed a dollop right into his mouth. Dean brushed his teeth distractedly watching Cas do this weird thing with his tongue and then one finger. After a minute he spat into the sink and proffered the brush to Cas.

"Just use this dude."

Cas eyed the still foamy toothbrush warily.

"That’s all right.”, he mumbled around a mouth of foamy paste.

"Man, you had your tongue all up in things yesterday, and you’re worried about a few germs from my mouth?"

Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean then stared down the toothbrush, and Dean was pretty sure he was giving serious consideration to this. Finally Cas just took the brush and finished cleaning his teeth. Dean rinsed and turned the shower on to warm up. It usually took a few minutes to get any hot water, but at least the pressure was decent here.

Cas rinsed out his mouth and returned the toothbrush to it’s little container and then it’s little pouch. He turned to Dean and leaned his bare ass on the porcelain sink. They stood staring at each other for a few minutes while the water pattered down into the empty tub. Dean stuck his hand in a few times to check and nope, arctic freeze your balls off cold. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. Cas’ hair was all rumpled and he wanted to run his fingers through it and press the guy up against the tile wall.

"So, uh, you said you’re going back to New York ? You work there?"

"Yes. I’m a curator at the Guggenheim museum."

"Cool. That must be interesting."

"I do enjoy my work."

Dean nodded, checked the spray again.

Cas eventually asked, “What is your career?”

Dean decided to just go with the most recent - and most legal. “I’m a mechanic.”

"Ah. I’ve never been very good with cars."

—C—

Castiel certainly felt fresher after brushing his teeth. Even if it was strange sharing the man’s toothbrush, but Dean had a point. Their conversation in the small space was a stilted awkward thing. Conversation usually was for Castiel, at least of the chit chat variety.

The sink was cold against his skin, but he wasn’t certain where else to go in the bathroom with the water heating up for the shower. He found himself distracted by the mental image of Dean bent over a car, under the hood, maybe smudged with a little grease, wearing a t-shirt clinging to his body with sweat. The man did have lovely hands, rough working hands with thick fingers and a few slivers of faded scars across the backs of his knuckles. Castiel was still certain that he wouldn’t be able to get an erection so quick after what he woke up to, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be aroused.

Dean coughed and turned his body away, declaring the water warm enough as he slid the grimy glass door down it’s track and stepped into the tub. There was something almost sweetly innocent about sharing a shower with someone for no purpose but to stand closer a little while longer, even if it were under the guise of saving hot water. Castiel stepped in behind Dean, closing the glass door. The other man had his back turned and head dipped down under the low shower head, back curved and bow legs bent.

Castiel picked up a bottle of shampoo that was perched on the ledge. When Dean turned around he squirted a little in his palm and reached out to ask, “May I?”

Dean blinked water out of his eyes and swiped the back of a hand across his mouth, swallowing and considering Castiel. “Sure.”

He turned back around and tipped his head back for Castiel to massage the shampoo through. Castiel wondered what it might be like to have this more regularly. A pleasant rapport with someone as beautiful and interesting as this man in a casually intimate way. To feel affection for someone, and be able to express it openly. He longed for the companionship of someone who could come to know him. Like the way that Dean and Sam looked at each other, spoke with their hands and eyes, that deep well of affection that was evident between them.

Dean hummed and swayed back as Castiel continued washing his hair far past what was necessary to clean it. He let his hands roam down wet soapy shoulders, the dense muscle of Dean’s broad back and the give of his waist. Castiel didn’t crave sex, he just wanted to be folded up in this man’s arms. He found he couldn’t quite believe anymore that desiring the company of another man in this way was a sin.

—D—

There were always tense muscles in Dean’s body, no matter how relaxed he was the knots under his skin stuck around. In the steamy heat of the shower with Cas rubbing against his scalp with the perfect amount of pressure, he could feel just a few more of them loosening and giving way as he unwound. Dean loved a hot shower, and he loved a hot shower with someone else even better, although fooling around was usually a goal in there somewhere. 

It just felt comfortable to be like this with Cas, didn’t feel vulnerable or exposed, just, nice. There was mildew in the cracking grout of the tiles and lime build up on the chrome fixtures, those little textured stickers on the bottom of the tub in what might have been a bright blue at one point were peeled and ripped. It was still a damn nice shower. 

As Cas’ hands roamed from his hair down his shoulders and his back, exploring with a little kneading and gentle rubs of the heel of his hand, Dean folded forward and moaned into the shower spray. Scooting a little closer he squeezed his eyes shut and rinsed his hair while Cas worked a few more knots out of the small of his back. Fuck the man had magic fingers.

Dean couldn’t help the sick twist of lying to the man that gnawed in his gut. It was one night of fun, it was harmless right, that’s what he always told himself. He never really cared about any of the guys they’d picked up. Hell, it hadn’t even been a full day he’d known Cas. There was some deep seated desire to dredge his secrets up and bare them to the ugly light of day and Cas’ scrutiny, some small little desperation that wanted acceptance, some large something that self destructively craved the reproach and disgust he was sure he’d see on Cas. 

Standing up and slicking his hair back he turned around and tugged Cas by the hips to nudge him under the spray of water. He tried to tamp down the crawling on the back of his tongue while he grabbed the shampoo and lathered up Cas’ hair, the man rubbing his head against Dean’s hand and groaning in an obscenely sexy way. He turned around when he rinsed his hair, looking at Dean with those big blue eyes and a smile curling his mouth up. 

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, mouth twisting up, guilt in his stomach curdling the moment like sour milk. Cas pushed his wet hair off his forehead and leaned forward, catching Dean’s hand and putting it on his hip. A hand caught under his chin and tugged his face up so he had to look at Cas again, had to look - and to let Cas see. 

“Dean, is something wrong?”

He couldn’t say anything because he knew it would come out so he shook his head instead.

“Dean, what’s wrong.”

It wasn’t a question the second time. 

“Sammy’s my brother.”

—C—

“Oh.”

Castiel wasn’t quite sure what else to say. He still held Dean’s face in his hand, the taller man pulling back with something like the wide eyed fear of caught prey. Brothers though. 

“Flesh and blood brothers?”

There was a nervous laugh on those pretty lips and Castiel didn’t like the way they stretched cruelly across Dean’s teeth. 

“Yeah.”

He didn’t know why Dean was telling him this secret now, he didn’t know if Dean had ever told anyone else. He didn’t particularly care though. He was tired of judgement, tired of the way hate could wear you down and shave little bits off until you weren’t sure who you were anymore. And he saw that in Dean too. There was a burden of guilt evident in him, the shame of secrets like corrosive things kept close to the heart. Castiel didn’t want to be like that either, he didn’t want to keep his secrets close to himself until they hollowed him out.

“Do you love him?”

It was more than evident in Dean’s eyes but Castiel wasn’t sure the man could admit it to himself. 

“More than anything. I love him too much. More than you should love a brother, fuck, I am a sick kind of fucking pervert.”

“Dean.”

“God, I don’t know what I’d do without him. I practically raised that kid you know, he was my responsibility, and christ doesn’t that just make it worse, I don’t know why I want him like this, I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I’m fucking poison.”

His chest was starting to expand and contract with shallow breaths and there was a tear track winding it’s way down one of his cheeks but Castiel just pretended that was shower water. 

Castiel cupped his face in both hands, standing close enough his nose was almost brushing against Dean’s, and he didn’t feel an ounce of disgust. He envied the love they had. 

“There are far worse things that you could do, than to love someone too much.”

—D—

His whole body was flushed too hot and it wasn’t the heat of the shower. There was a weird kind of tightness in his chest that he knew was panic starting to set in. Even though Cas was holding him too gently - like he was a fragile thing - he couldn’t tear himself away. He hated himself, for his weakness, for his sickness, and he wanted Cas to hate him too so he could feel vindicated in his opinion, but the man just stared at him with those ridiculous fucking eyes. Dean felt like he could believe, like he could trust him. It was stupid. Naive. But he really did.

"Christ, this is turning into a fucking chick flick moment."

Cas harrumphed at him, doing that squinty thing. “My apologies. We could make it a more pornographic moment, if you’re more comfortable with that.”

Dean had already backed himself up to the end of the tub and there was no where else to go when Cas crowded into his space and pulled his face down to kiss. It was a hell of a lot nicer, with minty fresh mouths, and Dean was more than pleased with the change of tone when he could push his tongue past Cas’ lips and lick into his mouth. Hands slipping on the wet skin of Cas’ hips, wandering around back to palm at his perky ass, Dean sucked on his tongue and moaned appreciatively.

Cas was gripping on to his biceps, leaning up and pressing their bodies flush together chest to hips, one thigh pushing between his legs. Cas pulled back, rolling Dean’s lip between his teeth, sighed and pressed forward, pulled back leaving a light kiss on his lip and down his jaw.

Dean lifted a hand to push his fingers through thick hair dark with water. “You are some kind of something Cas.”

"I’m not sure what you mean by that."

Dean kissed the tip of his nose and pushed him back. “Nothing. Come on, water’s getting cold, still gotta soap up.”

Cas nodded once, hands lingering on Dean’s arms before sliding down and away to find the soap. They both lathered it in their hands and rubbed each other down without a washcloth. It was good enough. And another excuse to keep their hands on one another, skin to skin, fingertips dragging over the expanses of Cas’ body and finding those places that made his breath hitch. Dean didn’t get to explore him like this last night. He liked it.

—C—

Castiel unashamedly and enthusiastically took his simple pleasure from letting his hands roam Dean’s body spreading soap bubbles that wouldn’t do much to clean without a washcloth but would be adequate. He’d rather use his hands, touch as much as he could before he had to leave. Leach Dean’s warmth from his body and hope his scent would linger on Castiel’s hands, in the whorls of his fingerprints. He liked it.

There was a riot of thought in his mind as time slowly slipped away and he swore he could feel the walls closing in again. Isolation, that’s what he would return home to. He had a few work friends who were friendly in their intention but he never mingled outside work, he still felt separate from them. He didn’t know when he began to feel separate from his family - weren’t there supposed to be no walls in a family - but he did. Completely, wholly alien from them. He would return home to his sterile cold life.

He didn’t want that. No, he wouldn’t go back the same person that he was when he left. He wanted the warmth of a companion to share his bed, his life, his mind, and he didn’t want to fear the reproach of his family for seeking that. He was determined not to. He and Dean each had their own burdens to slough off.

Pulling Dean under the spray to let the sudsy water sluice off their bodies till it ran clear, Castiel pressed a hand between his shoulder blades and held him close. The water hadn’t been hot for some time, but it was passing from tolerably warm to chill. Castiel reached behind him to swat the lever down and turn it off. It was warmer with the lingering steam in the enclosed space than it would be if he let the water go cold.

Morosely, he let go of Dean and slid back the shower door, stepping out. Dean seemed almost shy when he stepped out and Castiel handed him a towel. He had come in to the bathroom naked, and his clothes were still in the corner of the motel room. Drying his hair, Castiel wrapped the towel around his waist before he went back out. He gave Dean one more kiss before he left, the other man holding his towel bunched in his hands between them, the tiles cold and slippery underfoot.

Sam was still curled under the bed sheets, and Castiel attempted to quietly dress himself but as he was fixing his tie, Sam sat up yawning. He ruffled his hair and blinked sleepily, his smile pulling wider when Dean came out of the bathroom with his towel slung low on his hips.

Castiel patted down his pockets, making sure he had his phone and his wallet, slinging his jacket over his arm after he’d tied his shoes. He was ready to go, and he needed to leave five minutes ago in order to go back to his motel to gather his suit case and belongings, then make it to the airport on time. He stood awkwardly at the door, uncertain what to say. It had only been a one night stand, it shouldn’t mean so much to him.

"I had a lovely night. Thank you both. I need to - uh - need to be going now."

—S—

Sam drifted in a shallow sleep, a little too hot under the sheets as the day warmed up, but he was utterly content in the shabby motel room listening to the dull patter of water in the bathroom. With the blankets tucked almost up to his ears, he pulled his legs up to his chest and folded in on himself. It still smelled like Dean on this pillow, with a hint of Cas. He hoped they were at least having some fun in the shower. As much fun as Dean might have just watching, Sam knew his brother was a tactile person.

He was sleeping lightly when they finished, waking up enough to hear Cas rustling around in the room getting dress but unwilling to open his eyes just yet. Basking in the warm security of the blankets for a few minutes while his mind sluggishly started working, Sam eventually sat up because he wanted to say goodbye. The sheets fell around his waist as he stretched his arms up and yawned, pushing his hair off his face and rubbing his eyes.

Cas was tying his shoes, and Sam had to admit, he was a little regretful he would never see the guy again. It was just the way it was. It wasn’t like he and Dean could do this with people they knew. He didn’t usually think about the strangers they used like this, about what they were trying to get out of it. Mostly, it was just sex. There was something about Cas though, that seemed almost remorseful to go.

Sam stood up, still naked and unconcerned. He padded around the bed to stand in front of Cas.  

"I hope you have a good flight."

Cas smiled a little at that. “I’m sure it will be as uneventful as all the ones before it.”

Dean snorted from where he was still hovering by the bathroom door.

Sam reached out and grabbed Cas’ tie, pulling him closer, head tilted to the side to press a kiss to his lips. An arm settled around Sam’s shoulder, holding him close as well. Cas deepened the kiss first, lips parted and letting Sam in. Twisting Cas’ tie in his fist, Sam leaned against him and lapped into his mouth, feeling hot breath across his cheek when Cas sighed through his nose. It was something bittersweet, and Sam felt it a good note to leave on.

They pulled back at the same time, and Sam stepped away so Cas could swing the door open.

"Bye Cas."

"Goodbye Sam."

Cas nodded at him, then turned and nodded at Dean. “Goodbye Dean.”

Dean grunted from across the room. “Bye.”

Cas closed the door with a quiet click and was gone.

Sam scrunched his toes against the carpet a few times, looking at them. “You guys save any hot water?”

—D—

Dean watched his brother kiss Cas, and he wanted it for himself. Then Cas was gone out the door, out of their lives, as quiet and quick as he had come. Sam stood, stark naked, just looking at his stupid hairless toes.

"Sure didn’t save enough for you to take care of that mop on your head."

"Whatever, my hair’s not even that long."

"It was a little warm when we got out, I’m sure you’ve got a few minutes."

Sam frowned in a classic bitch face. Scratching his belly, he came across the motel room and Dean moved out of the way to let Sam into the bathroom. He didn’t even close the door when he lifted up the toilet seat to take a piss standing, then turned on the shower.

Dean dropped his towel and rummaged in his duffel for a clean smelling set of clothes. Jeans, black tee, blue plaid, fresh enough. Deodorant was the extent of his beautification ritual, his naturally rugged manliness didn’t need a lot of maintenance. Flopping on the messy bed that smelled like the three of them, Dean wondered what it would be like. If he let himself touch Sam with more than a friendly gesture, if he let himself kiss Sam’s sweet boy smile, if he let himself want this without wrapping it up in shame.

He’d always felt like he’d corrupted Sam, or failed him, or pushed him away. It sure didn’t seem to keep him away though, winding back and back and back around Sam. Anymore, maybe, the thing that made him feel the most guilty wasn’t that Sammy was his brother, but that Dean kept on doing this. Kept on reeling him in and promising him things and leaving. Yeah, that was kind of shitty. 

It’s not like anyone really had to know, that they were brothers. Dean didn’t really think it, but apparently some people really didn’t care either. He just loved Sam so goddam much and it was twisted up with all different kinds of things, it was etched on his bones, it wasn’t something he was ever going to get rid of or stop wanting. He wondered if he was being cruel to his brother, cause it was plain as fucking day that this sick fucked up love was mutual. 

It was mutual. They were both adults. They could both make their own decisions. It wasn’t all on Dean. 

When he heard the water turn off, Dean rolled over on the bed and reached for a skin mag that was stashed in the bedside table. He didn’t want Sam to come out and think he was pining or moping like a fucking girl. Which was totally what he was doing.

—S—

Sam showered hastily, really just focusing on the most dirty parts, because there was not even luke warm water left. Dean’s pants must be on fire, cause he was such a fucking liar. He was too distracted by the shock of cold water to give much consideration to his curiosity for what Dean and Cas had been doing. He could guess, yeah, but there was something almost subdued about Dean when he came out and Sam wasn’t sure what it was.

Finishing quickly and trying to rub warmth back in to his freezing limbs with a towel, Sam padded into the motel room to look for his toothbrush. Dean was lounging back in a bed, dressed and flipping through a porno magazine.

"Dude, you are such a liar."

He looked up with feigned offense. “What? Me?”

"That was one of the coldest showers I’ve ever taken."

"Well, you got to stay in bed for longer, it’s a trade off man."

Sam scowled as he turned back around to the bathroom, now with toothbrush in hand. He turned around and looked at himself in the mirror as he cleaned his mouth. Although he couldn’t see all the way down in the small mirror and the angle was wrong, he could tell he was sporting some wicked bruises. It made him smile a little, although they were tender he’d have them all week, even after Dean had dropped him off and left.

Spitting and rinsing, Sam tried to screw his courage up to ask Dean for something. It was something small really, wouldn’t break the unspoken rules - or whatever - that Dean had. But Sam wanted it. Dean could give him just a little something. And yeah, maybe he was being a bit of a tease - that hadn’t really gone away.

Strutting out still naked, Sam found his phone and tossed it at Dean, who caught it and stared at him.

"Would you mind taking a picture?"

Dean’s magazine was still open in his lap. “Of what?”

"Of me. You know… "

Sam turned around and vaguely gestured to his ass, making a waving hand motion. He was watching Dean over his shoulder, and Dean was staring at him with a look he didn’t recognize. Sam didn’t know he had any more of those.

"Why?"

Now he was starting to feel a little nervous, sighing and looking at his toes. “Cause. I really, uh, I really liked it, and I just want to remember.”

—D—

Dean fiddled with the cell phone in his hand. Sam had some pretty impressive bruises down his ass and thighs. He was a tough little shit, Gods knew why he liked it. Dean wasn’t sure which one of them was messed up more for liking it - Sam for taking it or Dean for giving it.

“What, like uh, like keeping a girls panties for a memento?”

Memento. Yeah, that was definitely the only reason Dean kept them sometimes. Sam glared at Dean a minute. Well, he thought it was a good analogy.

"Yeah, something like that, I guess."

Sam pushed his hair out of his eyes and turned around with his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t have to, just, whatever.”

"Nah, it’s good Sammy."

Dean stood, swiping the phone on and finding it’s camera app. He focused on the little device, coughing once into his hand when he said, “Just, uh, you mind if I send a copy to my phone?”

"What?"

Dean shrugged.

"That’s fine."

"Cool. Hey, stand in front of that wall."

Dean gestured to an unobstructed wall where there wasn’t clutter, finding a good distance away to take the shot as Sam turned his back again. Dean snapped a few, getting the right angle, sending them off to his own phone before he tapped Sam on the arm with the phone and passed it back.

"So, you need me to take you back today? It’s just Saturday, we could hang out and, I dunno, whatever there is to do around here."

"Yeah. Definitely. Hey, you want to see a movie?"

"Sure, what’s out?"

"I don’t know. We could see if there’s a dollar theatre around and just watch whatever they have."

Sam was moving around the room and pulling his spare clothes out of his backpack, dressing again. Dean watched him.

"Sounds good. How about breakfast, what are you in the mood for?"

"A good omelette."

"I don’t know about the good part, but that diner we went to yesterday, they got breakfast food."

"I liked it there, we can try that."

"Okay."

Dean stood, rolling a crick out of his shoulder. He left the bed sheets messy and tossed his skin mag onto the night stand. The second bed was still unused. He was kind of thinking if he could work up the balls for it today, the second bed might still be unused tomorrow morning. He tried so damn hard not to miss Sam when he was gone that it hit him like a ton of fucking bricks when he finally came back around to see his brother.

"So, about moving closer, you’d really want to see more of my ugly mug?"

Sam, fully dressed, turned one of his soft puppy dog eyed looks on Dean. “Yeah of course I would. Dean, you know you’re not the reason I left. Hey, you’re not, don’t look at me like that.”

Dean shrugged, moving to the door, ready to get out and close the door on this shit show.

—S—

Sam trailed after his brother, following him out of the motel and locking the door behind. It was almost noon by now, and sunny bright enough that he had to squint against it. There were a few other cars in the lot, but it was quiet, only the whistle of the wind through a scraggly tree by the road.

He really shouldn’t push Dean. Change came in slow little increments for him, but Sam didn’t want to hold back what was on his mind. “You uh, actually, if you think you could find a job, around campus, you could always move there, and maybe I could move in with you?”

"Dude, you got a nice set up with your friends."

"It’s all right. I’d have a better set up with you."

"Only two of us paying for a place? I don’t know, it’d probably be crappier."

"I’d like the company better."

Dean punched him on the arm. “You’re such a girl.”

They were standing next to the Impala, both of them in the middle in front of her hood not moving to their sides. It was kind of nice out, warm, and Sam scuffed his shoe against the gravel of the parking lot feeling like he wasn’t supposed to move quite yet, feeling like he was waiting for something. Dean was standing practically toe to toe with him, hands in the pockets of his jackets, and he swiped a hand over his mouth when Sam looked back up at him.

"Maybe."

"Really?"

"We’ll see."

It was another ‘we’ll see’. Another concession. Just two words, well technically three, that made Sam smile a little wider and feel like bouncing on his heels. He didn’t know what was making Dean change his mind, or why, but every time they parted ways after - well after whatever it was that they were doing - it got a little harder each time.

Sam didn’t expect it. When Dean leaned towards him and brushed their lips together. Kept them there. Warm. Exhaled through his nose, breath across his cheek and Dean wasn’t touching him anywhere else just lips to lips. He had thought about so many obscene things to do to his brother’s lips. But now? He jerked back, too surprised to remember what he wanted to do, because this wasn’t some kind of joke or experiment.

"Dean, what the fuck?"

His brother looked wounded, stood his ground. “What the fuck what, Sammy?”

"What was that?"

"A … kiss?"

"You did that on purpose?"

Dean’s eyes flicked up and down his face. “Yeah, baby boy.”

"Are you - are you serious? About, us."

—D—

That wasn’t really the reaction he was expecting. All the different times he’d thought about doing that, he thought Sam would pull him in closer or push him back with a punch. Sam just, twitched. He looked more confused than either upset and disgusted, or turned on. Dean wasn’t sure what was going on. He wasn’t sure why he did it. Sam’s hair was curling as it dried in the sun and he was asking Dean for more, and Dean really wanted to give it.

"Yeah, I’m serious."

"De."

He shifted forward just a little, and he had to consciously make himself take a shaky breath, because this was earthquake shake big. A barrier, that as flimsy at it fucking was, had stood for years. He’d never laid a hand on Sam, like this, or his lips. Just played games, watching each other, keeping distance between them because this close up he couldn’t not reach out to touch. A hand on Sam’s shoulder, and it was so easy to creep around to the back of his neck. 

It felt so good to let himself do this, out in a fucking parking lot where anyone could see them. It felt even better when Sam leaned a little closer too, a wide deep dimpled grin splitting his face when he reached up and grabbed Dean’s shirt in his fists.

"It’s about time, jerk."

"Shut up and kiss me, bitch.”

Sam was leaning forward for it as Dean was and they both tilted to the same side, awkward and bumping noses, teeth pressed hard to lips and bodies reaching too eager, pushing, giving. Dean took a deep breath through his nose as he gripped onto Sam’s hip and held him still, angling his head and slotting their mouths together. Slipping his tongue into Sam’s mouth, open and wet and inviting, Dean licked into him and brushed his fingers up under the hem of Sam’s shirt. 

This was long overdue. Dean didn’t feel that sick twist of wrongness in his stomach, he didn’t feel like a monster or a pervert. It didn’t even feel sexual, to have Sam’s mouth moving against his. It was something desperate and deep and too big to put a name on. But that was just how he’d always felt about his brother, and this, well this was just another piece of it. 

It was about time. 


End file.
